


Land of Confusion

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Various States [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), War Horse (2011)
Genre: Action, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Everybody Lives, F/M, Gen, Hearing Voices, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Kinda, Loki Has Issues, Loss of Smile Power, M/M, Mild Language, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Sam Wilson, Prologue, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Spies & Secret Agents, Steve Has Issues, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Lost, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5125106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Asset had a Mission. It was simple: Kill Captain America. He knew, without remembering, he had done missions and the missions were easy, the targets were eliminated quickly and efficiently. Yet this Mission, this one Mission refused to yield. And seemed to think he was Bucky. Who the hell was Bucky?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where the Brave Meets Blue Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do now own any of the Marvel characters. Nor do I own Captain America: Winter Solider, screenplay by Christopher Marcus and Stephan McFeely, nor Captain America: The First Avenger or Agents of SHIELD. If you know it, I do not own it.  
> “Human” written by Christina Perri and Martin Johnson.
> 
> A/N: This is the Winter Solider version for the Various States Universe. The previous installments are highly recommended reads before you read this, but it’s up to you. This first chapter is what happens before the movie actually starts and ties in the run-up Agents of Shield episodes that I wrote as a one-shot put decided to tack on here instead of posting it on its own.

**_Prologue_ **

* * *

_Watch me ‘cause I’m on a mission / Hold me back, so I’m forced to listen / Don’t let me go ‘cause I’m nothing_

_-Muse, “Save Me”_

* * *

It was cold. It’d been cold for a long time. Or was always cold. Or not. Get back to him on that. His concept on time wasn’t too keen at the moment. It might have been minutes of cold or a hundred years for all he knew. Time had kind of lost its meaning. 

It was cold. 

“Huh.”

That was a new voice, one he didn’t recognize. He really wanted to open his eyes, but he didn’t want to see he was hearing things and be disappointed. He didn’t think he could handle that. He’d lost track of the times he’d dreamed someone had come to rescue him.

No one was coming.

“I seemed to have found myself in _The First Avenger_ ,” the voice continued. 

The first what?

Wait, that voice was American.

“Why are you not talking?”

He remained where he was, not opening his eyes, not doing anything except taking very shallow breaths in and out through his nose. It annoyed his captors when he failed to respond with shouts or curses. It was how he got his kicks these days. 

And he was dreaming of an American broad here, somewhere one would never be. No dame would end up in a Nazi science facility where they were doing who knows what to the POWs and hailing something called “hydra.” 

“Okay, dude, you gotta talk. Stevie’s on his way, if I got my movie right. A little taller, a little wider, but still chock-full of stupid,” the woman went on, getting closer. He could feel hair trailing over his bare arm. It was so soft and made goosebumps break out all over. “But, tragically, there’s a few more horrible things these apes are going to do. So, well, since I’m the monster now, I can do this.”

Bucky’s eyes shot open as pain seared through his chest. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His eyes focused on the woman leaning over him. She was sure an odd looking dame. She had the brightest orange hair he’d ever seen and her skin almost matched. Her eyes looked as if they had dancing green fire within them and her mouth was twisted in a facsimile of a smile. She leaned in closer, pressing whatever she was holding harder into his chest causing pain to flair. Her hair began to flow as if it was caught in a gentle sea breeze as he twisted in agony against his restraints. It felt like hot fire was pouring through his veins. The only good thing: he was no longer cold. 

“You can hold your breath, you can bite your tongue if that’s what they want, be their number one,” the orange hair woman talk/sung/something that sounded strange and made him feel as if the words were writing themselves on his bones, “You can fake a smile, force a laugh, dance and play the part if that’s what they ask, give them all you can. You can do it.” Her voice changed into something completely different that sounded as if she turned a record player on. “ _I’m only human. I’m only human. Just a little human._ ”

And she blinked out of existence. 

“Ah, he iz awake,” came the dreaded voice of the evil scientist who claimed to be making Bucky better. “Vill he talk today?”

James Buchanan Barnes began to recite his army number. Over, and over, and over. And he knew he wouldn’t stop until Steve showed up.

So, basically, he’d die reciting the number as there was no way Steve was going to show up in a war zone. Even if he found someone dumb enough to let him into the Army, there was no way he’d actually see battle when a light wind would knock him over and make him unable to breathe right. 

* * *

_Farewell, I’ve gone, to take my throne above / Don’t weep for me cause this is the labor of my love_

_-Imagine Dragons, “Warriors”_

* * *

It was cold. 

Cold was wrapped around it, holding snug. It liked the cold. The cold sang. Badly, but the cold sang.

_I’m only human._

It didn’t understand the words, didn’t know why the cold sung them, but it appreciated it nonetheless. 

_I’m only human._

_Just a little human._

It wasn’t an it, it was a he. He was…wait, what was he…

_I can turn it on, be a good machine. I can hold the weight of worlds if that’s what you need, be your everything._

It was getting warm. Wet. 

It was time for a mission.

Wait, mission? He did missions still? 

Didn’t he fall off a train and die? Or almost die? He clearly wasn’t dead.

_I can do it, I can do it, I’ll get through it._

_But I’m only human._

“Is it awake?”

He opened his eyes and glared at whoever had said that. The person frowned at him, looking peeved he was glaring. He glared harder. He’d punch the guy if he’d had use of his arms. 

Wait, where was his left arm?

“He needs a wipe. He’s showing emotion.”

“Check.”

He struggled as he was manhandled into a contraption that looked more like a torture device than a medical one (or one to wipe him down, he was covered in slush). He fought tooth and nail, but he lost. Even with the shiny thing attached to his left side. There was something within him that wouldn’t let him battle as hard as he knew he could.

Wait, he was stronger than a dozen men? 

“Hook it up for nutrients. We won’t have time to feed it.”

“Check.”

A face came into focus, one he’d never seen before, and gave him a rather vile smile.

“Welcome to the new age, Winter Solider. You will make a great asset to our cause,” said the man in what he realized was Russian.

Since when did he— 

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. 

* * *

_Holding something we don’t need / All this delusion in our heads is gonna bring us to our knees_

_-Jim Bay, “Let It Go”_

* * *

_I’m only human_

_I’m only human_

Cold. Cold. Cold. Always cold.

_Just a little human_

_I can take so much ‘till I’ve had enough_

I’ve had enough. I’m done. I don’t know why I am cold, but I’m over it. I wanna be warm. Hell, I don’t think I was this cold the winter Steve and I didn’t have enough money for the heater.

Wait, who is Steve? 

_‘Cause I’m only human_

_And I bleed when I fall down._

What the hell is with this song? I get it. I’m human. Not like I’m going to forget it. 

How could I forget that I’m human? 

Do I forget? I feel like I might. 

_I’m only human_

_And I crash and I break down_

_Your words in my head, knives in my heart_

_You build me up and then I fall apart_

_‘Cause I’m only human_

You know, for a song that is stuck in my head on repeat for an unknown amount of time, I’ve no idea how it got there. I’ve never heard anything like this. And I’ve heard lots. I go to dance halls, I’m up with the latest music.

Or at least I was before I was always cold. 

Wait, what’s a dance hall? 

Oh, it’s getting warm. 

Who are these people? They don’t like it when I’m confused. Okay, fine. I won’t—

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. 

The Asset has a mission. The Asset will complete its mission and return to base. 

* * *

_So take the photographs and still frames in your mind  /  Put it on a shelf in good health and good time_

_-Green Day, “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)”_

* * *

Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold. So tired of cold. Cold is so yesterday.

_I’m only human_

_I’m only human_

_Just a little human_

I’ve got that covered. The song that doesn’t end. Goes on and on and on and on, forever while I freeze to death. I’m so tired of being cold. I’m not freezing to death, I don’t think. I’m only sleeping.

Confirm. 

No, I’m pretty sure I’m freezing to death. I can’t feel my left arm. Or is it my right arm?

It’s the left.

No. How are you sure? Wait, who am I talking to?

_‘Cause I’m only human_

_And I bleed when I fall down_

_I’m only human_

_And I crash and I break down_

This song is annoying.

What song?

You can’t here that? Who the hell am I talking to? Or thinking at. I’m not even sure what I am doing.

The Asset hears no song.

What?

The Asset hears no song. 

Great. I’m officially mad as a hatter. More than likely crazier.

The Asset hears no song. 

_Your words in my head, knives in my heart, you build me up, and then I fall apart_

_‘Cause I’m only human_

You are me, so I don’t know why you can’t here that song. It’s like carved on my bones. It crawls under my skin and settles and reminds me.

That you are only human.

Well, yeah, but also…I’m remembering stuff. Something about Steve. Brooklyn. Making him throw up at Coney Island. 

Explain Coney Island.

Fighting against HYDRA along side Captain America, who was just that stupid punk from Brooklyn I was always saving from alley brawls.

Confirm who you are. 

James Buchanan Barnes. Who are you?

The Asset.

The Asset? What kind of fu—

“Ah, he’s awake.”

Ah, crap. No emotion. They hate emotion.

Emotion is weakness. 

You’re an idiot.

“The Asset has a mission,” the blonde man informed him (them?), wearing a smile he didn’t like. “Wipe him. I don’t like the look in his eyes.”

Fuc— 

* * *

_If one heart can mend another / Only then can we begin / So won’t you hold on a little longer / Don’t let them get away / Lonely, I, I’m so alone now_

_-Lykke Li, “No Rest for the Wicked”_

* * *

_I can turn it on_

_Be a good machine_

I’m so over this song. I don’t even know how I know it. You there? 

_I can hold the weight of worlds_

_If that’s what you need._

It’s likely better my alter ego isn’t here. Who clearly goes off and kills people. All the blood on my hands. I’m almost glad they wipe my mind before they shove me in here. No idea why it doesn’t stick while I’m just chilling. God, I’m so hilarious and no one knows except me.

_Be your everything._

_I can do it, I can do it, I’ll get through it._

BUT I’M ONLY HUMAN! AND I BLEED WHEN I FALL DOWN! I’M ONLY HUMAN! AND I CRASH AND I BREAK DOWN! YOUR WORDS IN MY HEAD, KNIVES IN MY HEART, YOU BUILD ME UP AND THEN I FALL APART, CAUSE I’M ONLY HUMAN! I HATE THIS SONG! I DON’T KNOW WHY I KNOW IT! I HATE IT! IT’S DRIVING ME ROUND THE BEND!

Oh, hell. It’s getting warmer. I wonder…if I can hang on and try to influence the Asset? Worth a shot.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.

The Asset will complete its mission and return to base.

* * *

_You put your spell on me / Got me rooted in the ground like an old oak tree / It’s good, can’t you see? / That you got the magic to set me free_

_-Ingrid Michaelson, “Warpath”_

* * *

“Oh my god. What did you do?”

The Asset startled, turning to find someone standing next to it in the rain. It blinked, wondering how the woman managed to get down into the ditch and next to it without it noticing. She also looked familiar, yet the Asset had never been shown her file photo, so it was unsure how it recognized her. She was not one of its mission assists, handler or leader of HYDRA. 

“You killed Howard Stark!” she shouted, her orange hair flying upwards unnaturally. “Is this cannon? I don’t know anything about you and your Marvel storyline. As far as I know, you died a snowy death by dramatic fall, but like everyone else in this Marvel franchise, you’re not dead. And how ironic, they keep you on ice! Steve is on ice, but no one is waking him up to kill people. He wouldn’t do it anyways, but I’ve been following you. All these missions, all these high profile assassinations. You are shaping history with a gun and a metal arm.”

“You talk too much.”

“You speak Russian!” the orange haired woman gushed, hair flying in a different direction. 

The Asset shot her, but the bullets ricocheted off some sort of bubble. She moved the golden spear she was holding back and forth, looking impressed and surprised. 

“Didn’t know that’d happen. Maybe I’m doing that? Don’t think it’s this thing. I’ve got magic. I’m evil.”

The Asset cocked its head to the side.

“I’m also time traveling!” She let out a cackle, throwing her head back. Her vivid hair flowed upward in a nonexistent breeze. “I don’t understand! Makes no sense. This is a Mind gem or whatever, not the Time one. Wait, how do I know that? Whatever. But, I meant to teleport myself somewhere…or something. I don’t know. I don’t remember. I’ve got this thing. Maybe it’s this thing?”

She cackled, holding herself around her bare middle while showing it a purple stone. She wasn’t wearing much clothing and the clothing she was wearing looked as if it’d burned recently. She was also not getting wet in the pouring rain. 

The Asset shot at her with a different gun. When that failed, it tried the knife. When that failed, it turned around and walked away. She was not part of the Mission. It had completed the Mission. 

“Hey! Don’t you walk away from me!” she screamed, suddenly blinking into existence in front of it. It stopped walking.

That was not normal. 

“I’m following you around for a reason, so I’m gonna do something to help Steve out, because, duh, you’re going to run across him once he unfreezes and be all…whatever you are. You’re not evil because you don’t know what you’re really doing, right? You do what you’re told because that’s just what you do.”

The Asset said nothing, but tried to walk around her, but she stopped it, the tip of her spear pressing into its chest. 

Something flowed through its veins that froze it mid step. Heat flared suddenly, making it look at the woman with wide eyes behind its goggles. It knew she should be unable to see it due to the goggles and face mask, but the smirk she wore told him she could see and knew the look of shock on its face. 

“You can turn it on, be a good machine. You can hold the weight of the world if that’s what they need, be their everything. You can do it, you’ll get through it. But, you’re only human. You bleed when you fall down. You’re only human, you crash and break down. _Just a little human._ ”

The Asset blinked. It was not human. It was a weapon. Yet that last part, that sounded as like noise and not her voice, rang deep in his head and made something come loose. It rattled around then found a place to settle. 

The Asset pressed its lips together. Did weapons have lips?

_(Yes, you idiot. You have lips.)_

The Asset looked around for the source of the voice who answered its question, but only saw the orange haired woman. 

“ _I’m only huma_ n,” she sang in the recorded voice, pressing the tip deeper into his chest. It pierced the armor covering his chest. He looked down. “ _I’m only human, just a little human. I can take so much ’til I’ve had enough, ‘cause I’m only human.”_

The Asset—no that wasn’t right. Wait…

_(You’ll get there, buddy.)_

Get where?

Since when did it ask questions?

_(Since now, evidently.)_

“You are Bucky Barnes,” the orange haired woman insisted, her hair flowing slowly around her, her green eye burning. “Your best friend is Steve Rogers: big, blond guy who is chock-full of stupid. You like dancing, dames, and other things that I can’t remember because, duh, I’m slowly rotting my mind. I think that’s what’s wrong with me. God, I’m the wrong person for this. But, you need a trigger to wake you up and be Bucky.”

“Bucky?” he croaked out in a voice that sounded strange to his own ears. 

_(That’s me! You, us! We’re Bucky!)_

“Ah, ye speaks English! Huzzah!”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

“You are! _‘Cause I’m only human and I bleed and I fall down!_ You are James Buchannan Barnes! _I’m only human and I crash and I break down!_ You are Steve Roger’s best friend!”

“Steve?” he asked in the same weird voice. 

“Ah…crap. Remember, _I’m only human!_ ”

And the woman blinked out of existence. He— yes, he was a he, wasn’t he? Yes, he was. He turned in a full circle, but he was alone with a burning mass of vehicle behind him. He scratched his head.

Things were very muddled. It’d been so clear earlier. He had a mission and once he was done, he was to be brought back to base. He would be fed and he’d go to sleep to await the next mission. He walked a few more feet before he found a spot where he could climb up to the road easily without leaving a trail. He did so, being careful due to the rain that was drenching the ground.

_(That also helps cover your tracks.)_

In the distance he could hear sirens. 

He was supposed be somewhere before the sirens got too close. 

He walked a few more feet before his head hurt. He fell to his knees and held it in both hands. The cold metal of his left felt good on his burning forehead. 

When did his hair get so long?

_(I cannot look good with long hair!)_

Pardon? 

“Get in.”

He startled, staring at the black van that had stopped in front of him without him noticing. There was a rather perturbed looking man sitting in the open door. 

“Who are you?” he croaked out, slowly getting to his feet and getting ready to fight. 

“Christ. He’s been out of cryo too long. Grab him.”

Rough hands grabbed him and hauled him into the van. The door slid shut, making his head rattle funny. He had no clue what cryo was, ( _It’s where they put you on ice, you idiot)_ but if it made the pain in his head—along with that voice— go away, that would be fine.

_(I am not going away, stupid. You’re stuck with me now that she woke me up while we’re outside of cryo. I’ve been trying to hang on for awhile now. I think.)_

The Asset frowned deeply.

_(You better remember you’re a he next time you wake up.)_

He was going to sleep? Well, that was fine. He was really tried. After his meal. He got a meal. Sleep and meal for completing his mission.

What had been his mission?

_(Hell if I know.)_

* * *

_For if the dark returns / Then my brothers will die / And as the sky is falling down / It crashes into this lonely town_

_-Ed Sheeran, “I See Fire”_

* * *

Jim Nicholls lost Smile Power. 

It was tragic on too many levels for Skye to fully comprehend. 

Jim still smiled way too much for a normal human being, but there was no power behind the smiles. Skye wanted to fix him, yet didn’t know how. What she’d helped him uncover while they’d been in London had completely killed Smile Power and there was no way to help him un-know the information. 

On top of loosing Smile Power, he also began drawing some very disturbing things. Jim didn’t want anyone to see these things, but Skye caught peaks (added bonus: she worked on her espionage skills). The drawings were either people he knew from his regiment, his horse, or his family. And with exception of the horse, they all featured death, blood, sickness…some of the people looked like some form of strange zombie. Not that Jim knew what a zombie was…or maybe he did. Technically, he could be a zombie according to what she’d helped him uncover.

But none of that mattered at the moment because Coulson had sent Jim off with Mike Peterson to the bridge to get Mike’s son back from the Woman in the Flowered Dress (also known as Raina). Mike had insisted it was Jim who went with him, even though the two hardly knew one another. 

It’d been a trap. Now, Jim was kidnapped and Mike was dead.

“Why the hell would they take Jim?” Skye demanded. 

No one said anything.

“Seriously. Why him?” she challenged, looking straight at Coulson, daring him to say why anyone would kidnap Jim.  

“He doesn’t know anything. More so than anyone here,” Simmons pointed out, her cheeks turning pink.

Coulson sighed, looking tried. “He knows plenty.”

“He has no clearance,” Simmons reminded them. “None. And he’s from 1914. He literally knows almost nothing except what you tell him, sir. He’s read up on history, yes, but he still gets confused by his StarkPad, he can’t operate his mobile like someone his age ought to, and he sometimes still calls email _typed correspondence_.”

“Or mobile mail,” Fitz offered quietly. 

“He’s a time traveler,” May stated. “That is why they’d want him.”

“No way. If he was from the future, sure. But, he’s from the past. A past that doesn’t exist here,” Skye pointed out. “The history he lived isn’t even the right history.”

Coulson pressed his lips together, glanced at May, and sighed. “Since you’ve all clearly read his file, you know how he arrived and the state he was in, right?”

Skye nodded, watching Coulson carefully. Simmons and Fitz both sheepishly agreed, while Ward looked befuddled why he’d bother to read Jim’s file. 

“He died.”

“He died,” Ward repeated dumbly.

“For a minute?” Simmons asked, looking as if she really didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“No. He was DOA. The medics said he’d died before they reached him.”

“That wasn’t in his file,” Fitz quietly realized. 

“Agent Barton didn’t notice?” Simmons questioned. 

“No. After he’d done what he could, he tended to Ms Witton, who had passed out.”

“Jim’s clearly alive,” Fitz said. “Do people from his Earth rise from the dead? Might explain his fixation with zombies.”

Ah, so Skye wasn’t the only one to catch glimpses of the zombie drawings.

“No. Well, not to our knowledge,” Coulson carefully allowed, glancing at May again. 

“He was dead. Now he’s not. End of story,” Ward said, shrugging and folding his arms across his chest like it was no big deal.

“It’d take at least thirty minutes to get from Girdwood to Anchorage,” Fitz realized, tapping his fingers against the table. “They’d not be trying to save him on way to hospital if he was dead when they got there.”

Simmons narrowed her eyes at Coulson. “What are you not telling us?”

“He was dead. Then he wasn’t,” Coulson offered. “And now he’s fine.”

“He is not fine,” Skye insisted. “He’s been not fine for awhile now.”

Everyone stared at her as if she was speaking Russian or something. 

“What?” she asked, looking each of them. Not about to admit she’d helped Jim hack into secret SHEILD files and he knew he’d been dead and then wasn’t, she added, “Haven’t you notice his Smile Power is, like, gone?”

May and Ward both blinked blankly at Skye, while Coulson frowned. Fitz snorted. 

“He doesn't have an ability,” Simmons insisted, sounding tired of the topic of Smile Power. “There is nothing special about him other than his origins.”

“He’s got Smile Power. How can you not notice that people melt into puddles of mush at his feet when he smiles? Smile Power’s been on the fritz and it just got worse after London.” 

Skye looked at Coulson, willing him to say something that would clue her in on how much he knew and suspected, as if the files were right, he shouldn’t have known about what had happened to Jim and Loki, yet he knew Jim had died. 

“It is his right to tell us what is bothering him,” Coulson declared. “Now, it’s been twenty-four hours since Captain Nicholls was taken. I suggest we get him back. Where do we start?”

May glanced at Coulson before saying, “I think I have an idea where to begin.” 

* * *

_But I know what could break me / Dead on arrival / You were my death reflected_

_-Billy Idol, “Dead on Arrival”_

* * *

May’s plan sucked.

Mostly because it involved Coulson getting himself kidnapped and the scary lady with the ugly red highlights kicking Skye off the bus with May’s approval. 

Skye didn’t have the clearance for this mission (nor was she useful due to the stupid anti-computer bracelet still strapped around her wrist), thus no reason to be part of the OP.

To hell with them. 

She’d find Jim (and Coulson) on her own. (Well, with a little help from Simmons, Fitz, and Ward.)

All right, time to pretend to be Agent Melinda May and get access to some financial files. Money made the world go around and no organization could exist without a money trail. Pulling her sleeve down over her stupid bracelet, she marched up the driveway, slowly falling into character the best she could.

* * *

_Stones taught me to fly / Love— it taught me to lie / Life— it taught me to die / So it’s not hard to fail_

_-Damien Rice, “Cannonball”_

* * *

They got Jim back. 

And he was totally broken. 

Smile Power was dead.

“What did you find out?” Skye asked, rubbing her now freed wrist. Coulson had removed the anti-computer using bracelet after seeing how far she’d gone to protect their own. Her heart was in the right place and she’d shown loyalty or something epic. 

Skye was thrilled. She liked being part of the team. It was like having a family. Also, computers. She missed computers. 

“I died.”

“Yeah, we know.”

Jim looked up at her with bleak, blue eyes. 

Oh god, he was so broken. 

“They brought me back. I didn’t want to return. I had no will to live. I told them as much.”

“Okay.”

That was new. And disturbing on ten different levels. Skye shivered. 

“I thought I was in hell,” Jim whispered. Skye gripped his shoulder. He really looked like he needed a hug. After a moment of watching him shake, she wrapped her arms around him. He stilled after a few moments and wrapped his arms around her, somewhat timidly. 

Hugging wasn’t something they did in 1914, Skye was getting the feeling. 

“Do you still think that?” Skye asked, pulling away slowly. Jim instantly let go and turned damp looking eyes to her and smiled, sadly. Oh, god, no one should look that good while crying.

“No, darling, I don’t,” he quietly said, looking away again. He placed his hand over Skye’s that was still on his shoulder. “But it was difficult to live through it again thanks to that machine.”

“What did Coulson learn?”

Coulson had also been weird after they’d recused him. He wore a haunted expression and couldn’t look at Jim. 

“Haven’t the faintest idea. He did give me this,” Jim said, pulling a rather thick paper file from under his bunk. Skye dropped her hand from his shoulder and stared at it.

“Didn’t think they kept paper files that thick any more.”

“Fury didn’t want this project digital. Harder to steal paper if you don’t know where to look,” Jim explained needlessly. “I’ve no idea how Coulson got this. He’s not exactly speaking to me. Or looking at me.”

Jim offered it to Skye, who sadly stared into those usually sparkling blue orbs. She took it, opening it up to find it was in some sort of medical language that neither of them would ever understand. 

* * *

_I hope you get everything you wanted boy / I hope you conquer the world and turn it into your toy_

_-John Grant, “Pale Green Ghosts”_

* * *

Jim didn’t go with them to SHEILD Academy. He instead vanished in the middle of the night without telling anyone where he was going. Coulson, though, didn’t seem surprised.

“He needs to come to terms with what happened to him. So, I gave him leave and he took it,” Coulson explained before he and May went off on their own to Mexico City for some super secret mission. 

“He didn’t want to live.”

“He was scared,” Coulson countered. 

There was something Coulson wasn’t telling her. She could read the disapproval all over him. He hadn’t known what was done to Jim to make him not dead, but he sure as hell did now and he did _not_ approve.  

“How do you know? He was alive by the time you got there,” Skye said without thinking. “And no one was told he died, not till recently. How did you find out?” 

Coulson quirked an eyebrow. “I should have known…you were the one who hacked into SHEILD and found those encrypted files. Or at least you told Jim how to do it. After the thing with Loki.”

“Yeah. He thought something fishy was going on after Loki didn’t die. And that file you gave him? It makes no sense. To anyone. I’ve had Friz and Simmons look over it. It makes no sense,” Skye pointed out. “It’s five hundred pages of non-making sense jargon.” 

“I know.”

Skye narrowed her eyes. “You know what they did to bring him back and you don’t approve.”

“No. I don’t,” Coulson had admitted, getting into his car and taking off with May. 

* * *

_When you come back from your escape / You can make a person’s day / Cos it’s your time_

_-Pete Yorn, “Committed”_

* * *

“…and then I found her name on the wall. Along with Bucky Barnes. He was the first name. But, kind of cool. Her name on the wall with a guy like that.”

“You still have your faith in humanity, don’t you?” an amused posh British voice asked over the phone line.

“Of course. They saved me. I might still not know who my parents are, but it doesn’t matter. Not really.”

“Because you were wanted,” Jim quietly said. 

“Exactly,” Skye agreed. “Coulson seemed amazed my world didn’t totally shatter. When are you coming back?”

“Soon, Skye.”

* * *

_Yeah, I would fight for you, I’d lie for you / Walk the wire for you, yeah, I’d die for you / You know it’s true_

_-Bryan Adams, “(Everything I Do) I Do It for You”_

* * *

Being shot sucked. So much. There had to be a stronger word for it, but at the moment, Skye couldn’t be bothered to think much passed it totally sucked.

And this was not the way she imagined herself dying: bleeding to death from a stomach wound on a basement floor of the bad guy’s lair.

Okay. Maybe a little. Not the bleeding to death slowly from a stomach wound, but being in the bad guy’s lair. That was kind of epic. 

Liar.

At least Fitz knew where she was. Or where she was going. He might not know her exactly location. Hopefully the house wasn’t huge. It’d looked big, but…

They’d come for her. 

She shouldn’t have run in here. She didn’t really accomplish anything. Other than getting shot in the gut and finding out Mike Peterson was alive and now a cybrog working for the bad guy. 

God, this sucked.

Well, maybe they’d bring her back to life with whatever they used on Jim and Loki? Then again, she was not from another dimension, a time traveller, or a former magic-wielding-alien who also happened to be an evil genius. (No matter what, Loki was completely mental and she didn’t understand why they let him walk around without a security detail. Or let him off his Captain America leash. And, seriously, how did that relationship make sense? Captain America was all this and apple pie and he picked _Loki_ , who dispite his drop dead gorgeous looks was a creeper.)

Skye was just a hacker.

There were millions of those.

Eh.

Still, this totally sucked.

* * *

_I’ll be there for you / Don’t have to be alone for what you’re going through / Start to breathe and fake a smile_

_-Lifehouse, “Come Back Down”_

* * *

And then it didn’t suck at all. 

Skye opened her eyes. 

The pain was…mostly gone. Likely due to the miracle of pain meds. She looked to her left and saw…very blue eyes. Man, those were blue. Were they always that blue?

“And she awakes,” a pleasant voice said, tinged with a bit of worry.

“She does. Can she sit up?”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not really,” Skye said. “Just kind of sore.”

“Understandable,” Jim murmured. “I believe the bed can sit up. There are buttons.”

He appeared utterly baffled as he tried to find the buttons on the side to raise the bed. Skye laughed, even if it kind of hurt. Jim gave her a playfully annoyed look, then handed the bed’s remote to her when he gave up doing it himself. 

“You the only one here?” Skye asked as she slowly sat herself up.

“Yes. Asgard came calling,” Jim replied, pulling his StarkPad out of nowhere. He tapped the screen a few times. “Ah, Lady Sif has arrived.”

“Who?”

“One of Thor’s comrades.”

“So, uh, did I die?”

Jim sharply looked up. 

“So, I did,” Skye surmised, feeling a little weird knowing she’d been dead and now wasn’t. She didn’t remember anything about dying. She’d been in pain and now she wasn’t. So endeth her death story. 

“Only for a second.”

“Not as long as you or Loki, huh?”

“No. Also, you did not suffer from what we could tell,” Jim replied quietly.

“Suffer?”

“Why do you think I am so haunted?” Jim inquired, a note of impatience in his tone. “Mr Laufey-Odinson and I both suffered nightmares during the process. He remembered his clearly upon waking, I not till later.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

“Visions of war for myself. Mr Laufey-Odinson didn’t share his nightmares with me, but with the horrors of his past they were likely worst than my own bloody visions.”

Skye nodded. Of course Loki’s nightmares would be worse than anything Jim Nicholls could come up with. Jim had never split himself into two then put himself back together a-la- _Once Upon a Time_. Nor had he tried to wipe out an entire town just to distract his brother while he attempted to wipe out a whole civilization (something people seemed to forget when they were dealing with Loki). 

“Agent Simmons assured me that you did not suffer nightmares after they administered the…drug.”

Jim looked confused on how Simmons could have known, but Skye figured there was some machine that read her brainwaves or something. 

“It was a drug?”

Jim nodded and swallowed thickly, looking angry, confused, and uncomfortable as he stated, “Yes. And you are the last person to receive it.”

“What?”

Jim’s smile was full of rictus. (Skye missed Smile Power.) “I went on my first and likely my last mission.”

“What!?”

 “Director Fury has gone to ground. Unable to find him to tell us where…where the drug was located, other measures were taken. Director Fury was only privy to the location of the drug, but we unearthed it using what Agent Coulson…remembered during our kidnapping.”

Skye narrowed her eyes, knowing that this meant they used that awful machine they’d confiscated upon rescuing Jim and Coulson on Coulson while they’d had him. No wonder Coulson couldn’t look at Jim and as all frowny-faced all the time. 

“Agent Coulson was against using the drug upon you at first, but the situation became…dire. He agreed it would be for the best.”

“Why would he have been against it? I mean, sure you and Loki suffer from nightmares, but seriously? So do I. Without the drug.” 

Jim looked as if someone had cancelled Christmas. 

“Agent Coulson was on the team that originally research the drug. He did not know how it was derived, only knew it had horrible side effects and the project was scrapped. His memory of this drug and project were…erased, as well as the memories of those who took part in the trial.”

“But, they didn’t really stop because it was used on both you and Loki.”

Jim nodded, looking down at his hands. “Fury, it seems, refined the drug to do away with the worst side effects after taking Coulson off the project.” 

“What were the side effects?”

“Well, the nightmares,” Jim replied. “In the past, though, people lost their minds. After the trial Coulson was on was ended, they rewrote the memories of those involved so they’d no longer be insane.” 

“You’re not whacko. You’re likely the sanest person on this plane,” Skye pointed out. “Or did they implant the story of you being a time traveller?” 

“No, my life, as storybook as it sounds, is in fact truth. I’m of sound mind and show none of the…signs of having my memories replaced with vision of vacation locations,” Jim quietly mused. “And, well, Mr Laufey-Odinson is the same as before. If not better.”

“Vacation locations?”

“Agent Coulson seemed to think he spent time in Tahiti,” Jim said, looking confused. “On vacation.”

Skye blankly stared at Jim. “And he believed that? That man wouldn’t know a vacation if it bit him.”

Jim smiled sadly. 

“So, will I go nuts?”

“No. Or at least, it does not seem so as Mr Laufey-Odinson and I are of sound mind.”

“So, what did you do? You know, to make sure I’m the last person to return from the dead.”

Jim stared at Skye. He appeared for a second as if he was going to play dumb, but his eyes turned to steel— almost as if all the cheerful blue was sucked out through a black straw leaving only an ugly blue grey behind. 

Well, not ugly, but—  

“I blew up the facility where they were…making the drug.”

“You blew it up?” Skye asked, unbelievingly. “You? All by yourself?”

“No. Agent Coulson aided me. He was unaware…” Jim trailed off, shoving a hand through his curly hair. “He wasn’t aware how they were making the drug until we were in the facility. They had…a blue alien…hooked to…tubes…draining…”

Jim was unable to finish, but Skye could fill in the blanks. She reached out and placed her hand over Jim’s in his hair and guided it back down to the bed. She kept her hand over his and wove her fingers with his when he flipped his hand over. 

“Coulson also,” said an oil slick, smooth voice from outside the door making Jim drop her hand and leap ten feet in the air, “agreed that no one should have that kind of power. Only gods ought to, as we all well know.”

Loki I-Have-A-Mouthful-Of-A-Last-Name appeared in the doorway to Skye’s sick room. He looked different now he was no longer a “god” and was a mere mortal like herself and everyone else on the planet. (Okay, maybe not Captain America, but he didn’t count.) (And if Thor was on planet, then he didn’t count either.) (And any other Asgardian running around at the moment.) Gone was the larger than life being that Skye had met on a rainy day in London. Loki had glowed, she realized. He no longer glowed. 

He looked…normal. 

If one could look normal being that good looking.

She eyed him wearily, though, as he was still Loki. Change of species didn’t change his character. 

“You’re not a god,” Skye stated. “You were never a god. You were — or are an alien.”

Loki shrugged, leaning on the doorframe. “Semantics.”

“Loki,” Jim said in a warning tone.

Loki put his hands up and smirked. 

“Why are you here?” Skye demanded, glancing around for a weapon. There was no Captain America around to calm Loki down if he went off the deep end. Last time…gave her shivers even thinking what might have happened if Captain America hadn’t been there and dragged Loki off. 

(Skye wondered if maybe Captain America ought to have his head looked at seeing as he was _with_ Loki. How did that make sense?)

“Lady Sif is on Mid—Earth,” Loki corrected. 

“I called him,” Jim said at the same time. 

“You willingly called a mad man?”

“He is not mad,” Jim softly said, giving Skye a look she knew could likely melted hearts of millions. It wasn’t Smile Power, just Plain Jim Nicholls Charm. “He’s here because I requested his presence.”

“Because he died too. Great. We can all form a club,” Skye snarked. 

“While that would be wonderful, we have more pressing matters on hand, Miss Skye,” Loki said, easing himself off the door jam. He glanced again at Jim before Jim nodded, looking too serious. “There is something rotten in the state of Denmark.”

“Denmark?” Skye flatly asked. “Cheese? It goes rotten and stinks.”

Jim groaned as Loki chuckled. 

“SHEILD. There is something rotten within the ranks of SHIELD and it goes deeper than Fury and his little band of wanna be gods,” Loki explained as he entered the room further. Jim leapt up from his chair and offered it to Loki. Loki nodded, taking it. Once seated, Loki pulled out a strange looking laptop from his expensive messenger bag. The computer had an apple on the lid, with a smooth bite out of the side and lit up when Loki turned the thing on. 

“What is that?”

“A laptop.”

“Yeah, no duh. No, what kind of laptop? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Oh, yes. It’s a MacBook.”

“A what book?”

“MacBook. On the planet one half of me fell to there was a brand of electronics called Apple. They made their name making personal computers, Macs. At some point they started putting a lower case ‘i’ in front of everything. This, for example, is an iPhone.”

Loki produced another electronic item from his person, this one looking very similar to a StarkPhone, only sleeker. 

“There was no Tony Stark on this version of Earth, so there were no Stark products. Everything Stark supplies here was supplied by Apple. Well, except weapons. As far as I’m aware, Apple never was in the business of making missiles,” Loki explained. “Now, this laptop is very secure. It is un-hackable.”

“No way. That isn’t true.”

“It is,” Loki assured. “I hack things all the time. I cannot hack into this.”

“Let me try.”

Loki nodded at Jim, who handed Skye a laptop from behind him. 

“Is it on a network?”

Loki nodded. He went back to doing whatever he got the thing out to do. Skye went to work.

“While you’re trying to hack into my laptop, I’ll explain why I brought it,” Loki began, typing away. “Since arriving in Washington DC, I’ve come to realize that I dislike SHEILD.”

“You dislike SHEILD?” Skye echoed disbelievingly. “And you’ve just realized this after you moved to DC? Why’d you move to DC? Don’t you live in New York? With Captain America?”

“Oh, so many questions. Where to begin?”

“Start with why you hate SHEILD.”

"It is more so the man in charge of the SHEILD base in DC. I dislike him.”

“He’s never met him,” Jim put in.

“I do not need to meet him,” Loki insisted, giving Jim a sharp look.

Skye could not find the laptop connected to any network. She pressed her lips together and tried harder. 

“This man makes my skin crawl,” Loki proclaimed, flipping the laptop towards Skye and Jim. On it, there was a large photo of an older man. He was likely a total hottie in his younger years, but now he was an old dude. “Steven left on a mission recently that is more than it seems.”

“Are you sure you’re on a network and not something you made up?” Skye demanded, looking back at her own laptop. 

Loki gave Skye a look, turned his laptop back to him, did something, then turned it back to Skye. Sure enough, he was on the Bus’s network.

“Damn. How are you hiding yourself?”

Loki smirked. “I’m not.” 

Skye peered at the screen, looking for something. Anything. Loki was the former god of lies, right? Didn’t that mean he was likely lying? 

She couldn’t see anything that told her he was running a program that was hiding the laptop. Skye glanced at Loki, raising her hands and making typing motions. Loki rolled his eyes, but pushed the MacBook at Skye. She took it, feeling giddy.

“What is the mission?” Jim asked. 

“Steven and Romanov have been sent to free hostages with STRIKE.”

“With what?” Skye asked, pausing in her exploration of the strange laptop. (It’d been YEARS since she’d been faced with a new OS system. And this one was tight.)

“Special Tactical Reserve for International Key Emergencies,” Loki recited. 

“Another acronym they made up to spell the word they wanted,” Skye snorted, going back to trying to find the secret program that hid the laptop. (There had to be one and not just because of the operating system was something she’d never seen before. Or it came from a different version of Earth.) “Okay, so what’s so bad about that?”

“Romanov.”

“What?”

“Romanov is a woman of many talents. She lives in the shadows and can infiltrate anywhere. Fury only sends her to do mundane things, like watch Stark or save hostages, when there is something else he wants. I was leery when she was assigned at Steven’s partner. Steven isn’t exactly…unnoticeable.”

“No, not when he runs around with a star spangled shield and bright blue suit,” Skye snorted. 

“They gave him a new uniform. It’s darker,” Loki stiffly replied, glaring at her. 

Skye frowned. “So, what does Fury want then to send off his super spy with the All-American boy?”

“He wants Steven to be the distraction whilst Romanov carries out her own missions.”

Skye frowned deeper. “So, he’s going rouge against his own organization? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” 

“Maybe. I’m unsure. Fury marches to his own beat. Find the file labeled ‘Broccoli Surprise.’”

“‘Broccoli Surprise?’” Skye faintly echoed. “Seriously?”

Loki took the laptop. The mouse clicked a few times before he turned it back to Skye. She stared blankly at the open file, which was indeed titled “Broccoli Surprise.” 

“Yes, that was my reaction as well. I was unable to decrypt it.”

“Where did you get this?” Skye asked, reaching for the MacBook once more. Loki let her have it. She set about trying to figure out what the file said. 

“That, my dear, I’m not sure. I was doing my daily hack into SHIELD—”

“You hacked into SHEILD daily?”

“Often without us even knowing,” Coulson said from the doorway, making all three people in the room jump. Skye waited for the look of disappointment or disapproval, but it never came. If anything, under the usual professionalism, Coulson looked mildly amused. “Would you mind taking a break from this pow-wow? Ward has been compromised by Lorelei.”

Skye sat up straighter. 

And ouch. That kind of hurt. 

“Lorelei is here?” Loki asked, standing quickly and knocking over his chair. “Why didn’t you tell me? Where is she?”

“You’re not a member of SHEILD and we’ve got no idea. She took Ward, so they could be anywhere. Ward’s got little hidey holes all over the place,” Coulson explained, “drop boxes, p.o. boxes, and storage lockers. They’re filled with everything he’ll need to start over: IDs, cash, weapons.”

“So, he’ll be off the grid,” Skye filled in.

“Yeah. He’ll try his hardest to keep Lorelei off our radar, but guess what?”

“What?” Skye asked.

“You’re better than radar. Find them. Then you will explain what you three are doing and how the hell Loki got on my plane.”

Without a further word, Coulson turned and exited the room. He came back a moment later.

“Oh, while you’re here, Mr Laufey-Odinson, might you know something about a collar?”

Loki smirked. “Ah, yes. I happen to know a bit about it. I take it was broken at some point?”

“Of course.”

Loki nodded, following Coulson out of the room. 

* * *

_To be exact, I wanted to react / Mission of attack / Your head was gettin’ cracked / But you’re a human bein’ that’s lucky to be breathing / And that’s that_

_-Limp Bizkit, “Trust”_

* * *

After Lorelei was taken care of (Ward highjacked the plane, there were several fist fights, people locked away in rooms, that kind of thing, oh, and Sif punched Loki in the nose for his snark and it was awesome), Coulson gathered Jim, Skye, and Loki in his office. He eyeballed each of them before he settled his eyes on Loki and his epic black eyes. 

“So, what were you doing?”

“We discussed being brought back to life and that sort of thing. We’re thinking of forming a club. I’m afraid you’re unable to join, Agent Coulson,” Loki said, casually crossing his legs and almost hiding a wince when he’d attempted to smirk. 

Served him right. (Not that Skye really understood why Sif punched him, as she felt it went passed the rather cutting comment Loki had made about her and Thor.)  

“We actually spent more time taking about your weird computer and that old dude that makes your skin crawl,” Skye pointed out. 

“Oh, yes. That is true.”

Coulson quirked an eyebrow.

“Loki believes the senior SHEILD official at the base in Washington DC is…up to no good,” Jim said. “And…well…Fury…”

Jim looked flustered, especially when Coulson turned his full attention to him and looked at him for the first time in weeks.

“Up to no good?” Coulson echoed.  

“He is squirrelly at best,” Loki offered, flapping a long fingered hand. He studied Coulson for a minute before making up his mind about something. “I’ve uncovered this.”

Loki pulled the un-hackable laptop out of his bag and opened up the Broccoli Files. Coulson frowned upon seeing the gibberish. He quirked an eyebrow, turning his gaze to Loki. 

“This is what Fury sent Romanov after when she and Steven went on a mission with STRIKE to recover some hostages.”

Coulson frowned, looking as if he didn’t believe that at all.  

“Sketchy, correct?”

Coulson stared at Loki. “That sounds wrong coming out of your mouth.”

Loki smirked (and winced). Coulson pulled the laptop closer to him and clicked through the screens that made up the Broccoli File. 

“Alright. I’ll bite. What do you think Pierce is up to?” Coulson asked. 

“I think he’s trying to bring down SHEILD from the inside and Fury knows it, hence why he’s been so super secret spy recently.”

“What?!” Skye squawked while Jim’s mouth dropped open. 

Loki glanced at her calmly before looking back at Coulson. 

“What evidence do you have, Loki?” Coulson requested, looking slightly ill. 

Loki turned the laptop back towards him, fingers flying across the keys. Images popped up on the screens of strange looking carrier-like things. Loki flipped the laptop back towards Coulson.

“What the hell are those?” Skye asked, craning her neck to see the screen.

Coulson stared hard, a frown of epic proportions forming. 

“Someone is building an army, Agent Coulson. Do you know about this? From the expression in your eyes, I think not,” Loki taunted.

“Coulson?” Skye gently asked worryingly when Coulson didn’t respond. 

“I take it this is classified beyond your pay grade,” Jim suggested, looking worriedly between Loki and Coulson.

“I’d heard rumors they were building more,” Coulson admitted grudgingly, sitting back in his chair and eyeing the three of them. 

“More?” Skye squawked. “What are those things? They look like aircraft carriers.”

“And connecting them to satellites?” Loki casually inquired as if he was asking about the weather.  

“No.”

“Ah,” Loki said, nodding knowingly. He leaned forward and slapped the laptop close.

“What the heck were those things?” Skye demanded.

“Hellicarriers,” Coulson replied. “We lost the one we had before, so SHEILD was building a replacement. Wasn’t aware they were making three. Or connecting them to satellites.”

“Helli-whats?”

“Can you continue to attempt to decrypt that file?” Coulson requested. “I assume you are looking for Skye’s help, since you brought her into this.”

Loki slid the laptop into the bag at his side. “Yes. I’ve a copy of the files with me for her to try to decrypt. I’ve learned to ask for help.”

Coulson sighed deeply, giving Loki his tired dad look. “Keep me informed.”

“Why, Agent Coulson, are you going rouge?” Loki teased. 

Coulson smiled bitterly. “No. I’m still loyal to SHEILD. Just wondering what’s what.”

Loki looked a little sad and shrugged. (And winced again when hisnonchalant expression pulled wrong on his broken nose.)

(Oh, god, he looked super annoyed!) 

“Keep this between yourselves,” Coulson ordered.

“Aye, aye, Captian,” Loki mockingly agreed. Coulson gave him a baneful look before turning to Jim and Skye.

Jim nodded.

“I don’t like keeping things from the others,” Skye said. “I mean, I get it, but I don’t like it.”

“I know,” Coulson agreed. “I don’t either. But until we know more, it doesn’t leave this room. Let’s see if we can keep this bit of news from the Clairvoyant.” 

* * *

_You got the hands to make ‘em all buckle a rush / Blood runs fast, yeah you make it rush / I’m gonna live forever and it hurts so much_

_-Ingrid Michaelson, “Warpath”_

* * *

Tracking down the  Clairvoyant turned into a hot mess. Sure, Skye became a full fledge member of SHIELD (only because she needed clearance to hack something for the mission to work right) along with Jim (who’d looked floored when Coulson handed him a badge along with everyone else in the room as why did Jim need clearance for anything), but things were sketchy and while the guy they believed to be the Clairvoyant was dead, something was still totally wrong in the state of Denmark. (Great, she was turning into Loki and thinking everything was Denmark.) 

Worst, Jim had gone with Simmons and Agent Triplett to the Hub, so Skye was on her own when everything went down. Well, Fitz, Coulson, Ward, May, and Agent Garrett were around, but none of them were Jim. 

Also, she was still nowhere with the files Loki had left with her and it was super annoying. 

“He said they wanted me,” Skye whispered into her phone as the Bus took off after their Hunt for the Clairvoyant was over. “And…something’s just not right. And it’s bugging me more than those stupid files.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asked.

Skye rolled over in her bunk to stare at the ceiling.

“I think we’ve got—“

The phone line went dead.

“Jim?”

Skye took the phone from her ear and dialed again. 

Nothing happened. She had signal and a full battery. Skye stared at her phone in confusion as Coulson appeared next to her bunk wearing a disturbed expression. 

“You think we’ve got the wrong guy, too, huh?” Skye asked, dialing again. 

Nothing.

“Skye?” Coulson asked, bending down a little.

“My phone isn’t dialing out. I was in the middle of talking to Jim and it went dead,” Skye said, sitting up. She flipped the phone over and took the back off. Everything looked fine. “But, you think we’ve got the wrong guy, right?”

Coulson nodded.

“Do you wanna know what I think? I think the Clairvoyant isn’t clairvoyant at all. I think he knows so much about us because he’s got security clearance.” 

“What?” Fitz squeaked.

“Where’d you come from?” Skye asked, hopefully hiding the jump she’d done when Fitz had appeared by getting out of a nearby bunk. 

“What do you mean the Clairvoyant has security clearance?” Coulson demanded. 

“I mean, he or maybe she, doesn’t know a thing about us because of some special ability, but the fact he or she may have clearance to know these things. A level seven at least, right? Maybe an eight because he or she knew things you didn’t. Oh, god. What if it’s that guy Loki hates?”

Fitz paled, but shook his head in the negative. “Uh, I might know who it is. I found an encrypted line that I didn’t put there and shouldn’t be here. I saw Agent May use it.”

And, yeah, if anyone wanted to make Coulson look like a crushed puppy, Fitz sure did a good job. 

“Cut the line. Go do it, now!” Skye cried, reaching for the gun she’d stowed under her bunk. 

“Do it,” Coulson ordered. “Skye with me.” 

“Shoot to incapacitate?”

“Yeah. I want answers.” 

* * *

_Save me from my superstitions / Now I’m free, from this old condition / Wait just awhile and I’ll greet you with a smile_

_-Muse, “Save Me”_

 


	2. Fresh Air and Fond Memories Served Daily

**Disclaimer: I do now own any of the Marvel characters. Nor do I own Captain America: Winter Solider, screenplay by Christopher Marcus and Stephan McFeely. If you know it, I do not own it.**

**“Land of Confusion” was written by Mike Rutherford, Tony Banks, and Phil Collins.**

* * *

 

 

_Your true emancipation is a fantasy / Policies have risen up and overcome the brave / Greatness dies / Unsung and lost, invisible to history_

_-Muse, “Supremancy”_

* * *

Sam Wilson woke every morning before the sun (unless it was summer or snowing too much) and went for a run. It was hard and thankless, but it cleared his head and made him feel as if he was doing good things for his aging body. He always ran alone, passing people occasionally. That made him feel great. He hadn’t totally lost his edge. Then, six weeks ago, Captain America started running in the same park, passing him (“On the left!”) multiple times.

One day, after it’d happened one a little too many times, Sam began snapping back and tried to catch up.

He failed. Big time. 

“Need a doctor?” Captain America asked in all his perfect glory. Seriously, the guy didn’t even look like he’d been running. Not winded, not sweaty, not a hair out of place on his stupid, perfect head.

“I need a new set of lungs,” Sam complained. Captain America winced, sheepishly smiling and rubbing the back of his neck. “Dude, you ran thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

“Really?” 

Sam glared up at the blond idiot, who looked as if he was disappointed in himself. 

“Seriously? You’re ashamed you only ran thirteen miles in thirty minutes?”

Captain America shrugged, raising two perfect blond eyebrows and said, “I’ve done better. I must have gotten going late today.”

Sam banged his head against the tree he’d collapsed against when he’d finished his four miles. (Wimp. He could only do four miles in thirty minutes. There was a time he could do seven miles.)

“What unit are you with?” 

Sam glanced down at his Air Force sweatshirt. “Fifty-eighth, Pararescue. But, now I’m working down at the VA. Sam Wilson.”

Captain America held out a hand, either to shake or help Sam up on his old man knees (seriously, when had this happened). Sam took it and felt himself pulled to his feet as if he weighed nothing.

“Steve Rogers.”

“Kind of put that together,” Sam admitted, shaking the larger than life hand before dropping it. Sam’s hand was sweaty, Steve’s not so much. Was it even possible to sweat as Captain America? “Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing.”

Steve chuckled, then sang (for some unknown reason), “Oh, _this is a land of confusion, this world we live in_.”

“Nice pipes,” Sam commented.

Steve grinned. “Thanks. It’s good to meet you, Sam.”

Steve turned away. Something irked Sam about the guy (besides his running skills and non-sweating), so he called out, “It’s your bed, right?”

Steve froze, then slowly turned back around. 

“Your bed’s too soft, isn’t it? When I was over there I slept on the ground, using rocks for pillows. Then I come home and it’s like…”

“Sleeping on a marshmallow,” Steve finished, walking back towards Sam. “I feel like I’m going to sink right to the floor.”

Sam nodded. 

“How long?” Steve asked. 

“The marshmallow bed or was I over there?”

“Both?”

“Two tours. And, maybe a year or so. Still, sometimes wake up and wonder why I’m on a marshmallow.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and sighed deeply. “I’ve been awake for two years and I’m still thinking it’s a marshmallow. Could also be because I used to sleep on crunchy mattresses that had straw or springs poking me. And were likely filled with bed bugs.”

“Tried sleeping on the floor?”

Steve sighed. “I did that. Then, well, uh…”

Sam nodded, comprehension dawning. “Got a lady friend, got it. Doubt she wants to sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, no. He’d sleep on the floor with me,” Steve said, casually changing up the pronoun.

Sam tried really hard not to blink, gape, or look surprised. How had that been kept quiet? 

“I was informed I shouldn’t sleep on the floor. Wasn’t mentally healthy to cling to that. Or good for someone’s back.” 

Sam got a sarcastic super solider super smile. It was a little unnerving. 

“Well, that’s true. On both counts, but sleeping on the floor isn’t the biggest issue, huh? You still miss the good old days, huh? Still find this whole crazy place a…land of confusion?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s getting better. Food’s better, we used to boil everything. No polio. I kind of like the Internet now that I understand it. And, well, I can be myself for the most part.”

Sam nodded. “Marvin Gaye, ‘Trouble Man’ soundtrack. Everything you missed, all on one album. You really oughta stay away from Genesis, man.”

Steve cocked his head to the side, pulled out a notebook from somewhere (seriously, where was that notebook kept? Did he have built in pockets or something, as those pants sure didn’t have pockets, nor that shirt), and jotted down what Sam had suggested. He glanced up and took note of Sam’s expression.

“People suggest things all the time. I decided to keep track. Genesis was suggested. They were popular at one point.”

“Yeah, back in the 80s,” Sam pointed out. “And they’re not classic. Not Marvin Gaye classic.”

Steve pocketed the notebook at the same moment his cell phone went off. He pulled it out of yet another hidden pocket (Sam needed some of those pants stat). After glancing at it, he sighed and pocketed it once again in yet another location, (where were all his pockets and why did nothing show in them? Were they magical pockets?) and said, “Well, thanks for the run. If that’s what you can call it.”

Steve stuck out his hand, which Sam took to shake. He looked the taller man in the eye (whoa, those were blue eyes) and saw something he didn’t really expect.

The guy had a boyfriend, was Captain America, was living in the shiny future, yet he wore the same look many of the vets Sam helped on a daily basis wore when they first walked into the center. 

No wonder he was irked before. 

“Oh, is that how this is, then?” Sam asked. 

“Oh, that is how it is.” 

They dropped hands. “Well, fine. If you ever wanna stop by the VA and make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

Their eyes met and Sam knew his casual invite to the VA had been read for what it really was. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Okay.”

A flashy car pulled up, a brand new Corvette Stingray. The window rolled down, revealing a drop dead gorgeous redhead. Sam glanced at Steve who was busy looking at the car and not the redhead. 

“Hey, fellas,” she greeted in a low voice, somewhat flatly. “Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.”

Steve’s shoulders sunk. “That’s hilarious. Really.”

He headed over to the car and got in. Sam trailed behind, checking out the redhead and the car, though more so the woman.

“How you doing?” he asked the woman, nodding his head at her and shooting her a slick smile.

“Hey.”

She was utterly expressionless. Bust. He looked at Rogers who shrugged and gave him yet another sarcastic super solider smile. 

“Can’t run everywhere.”

“No. No, you can’t,” Sam agreed, stepping away from the car. 

And with that, Captain America roared out of his life in an All-American car muscle car for the All-American muscle boy— driven by a hot redhead.

Man, to have that guy’s life. 

The next day, Sam ran without someone shouting “On your left!” and he was a little let down, till a man with raven hair and two black eyes appeared before him while he was recovering under his now favorite tree. 

“Are you Sam Wilson?”

Sam eyed the man. “Who’s asking?”

The man smirked, his green eyes glittering in the morning sunlight. Sam did a once over on him again, taking in the running shorts that exposed rather thin, pale legs, and the t-shirt that clearly didn’t actually belong to the man as it looked a little stretched out in the chest. Or the guy didn’t wear shirts that fit him, though from how he held himself he struck Sam as one of those people who always dressed in their Sunday best at any given moment. 

The black eyes were a little worrying. 

“Luke Laufey-Odinson,” the man offered, extending a hand. 

Feeling a little déjà vu, Sam took it. Luke Laufey-Odinson (if that was his real name) did not help Sam to his feet, simply shook his hand. They met eyes and Sam decided, yeah, he was going to help this guy because he had that same look that Captain America had been wearing. 

He also had gem’s for eyes kinda like Captain America. 

“So, Luke, what brings you out here on this fine spring morning? And what the hell happened to your face?”

“Got on the wrong side of a woman in love with a man who’ll never love her back,” Luke replied, sitting down next to Sam. “So, someone suggested I meet up with you.” 

Sam eyes the guy next to him.  

“Why would they do that?”

“I’m in need of friends.” 

Sam eyeballed the man. “And I’m a guy to make friends with?”

Luke stared right at him and said, “Of course.”

“Fine. I’ll be your friend, if only for the strange ass story we’ll be able to tell for how we met.”

Luke snorted, then winced, touching his nose delicately. Sam rolled his eyes. 

* * *

_Wake up (wake up) / Grab a brush and put on a little makeup / Hide the scars to fade away the shake up_

_-System of a Down , “Chop Suey!”_

* * *

The Asset became aware of things besides cold: people talking, the absence of a limb, an ache that felt old, its frozen hair, a hum in the air that was out of its reach. 

“It’s waking up,” a voice said nearby as it felt the water droplets cascade down, releasing the hold on its eyes. 

Blinking, the Asset opened its eyes. Things were blurry. This did not alarm the Asset. While it did not remember waking, deep down, the Asset knew it had done this before. Many times. This was within normal parameters. 

“It stable?”

“Yes. I think,” said the first voice.

“You think?” sneered the second. 

The Asset remained where it was, waiting for orders.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t here last time they thawed him out,” first voice replied, sounding scared of the second voice’s reaction.

The sound of a slap resounded through the room. 

“Useless. All of you,” the second voice commanded. The source appeared before the Asset. The Asset glanced at the man before looking away.

“Know me?”

“No.”

The man rolled his eyes. “God, this gets old. I’m Rumlow. I’m your handler for this mission, got it? I get my orders from Alexander Pierce. He’s in charge of HYDRA.”

“Hail HYDRA,” murmured the room at large.

Rumlow smirked. “Got it?”

The Asset nodded its head once to confirm. 

“Mission, kill Nick Fury.” Rumlow leered. “Been waiting years for this. Here’s the thing, it’ll be a bit different than your usual cloak and dagger.”

Rumlow handed the Asset a file folder, which the Asset opened. It read the information quickly before closing the folder and handing it back to the handler.

“Got it? Good. Get him dressed,” Rumlow said to someone in the room before walking out. 

The Asset waited where it was before it was moved to a better location to be outfitted with what it would require for the mission. People moved around it, putting things on the Asset to cover it. The person tasked with putting on the mask and goggles looked less than thrilled, but the Asset simply stared at the man as the goggles slid into place.

This was within parameters. 

( _Parameters? You’re being dressed like a doll. A scary doll.)_

The Asset was not a doll, it was an asset, a weapon to shape the future.

_(I’m pretty sure you’re a person, buddy.)_

Deny. 

Mission: Kill Col. Nicholas J Fury, currently director of SHEILD, an organization that was a hinderance to HYDRA’s mission of peace. Complete mission, return to base. 

( _HYDRA? Aw, geez. How did we get messed up in this?)_

Ignore.

The Asset was moved into a van and it waited as the van was filled with mission assists. One of the mission assists handed it a rocket launcher. The Asset cocked its head to the side when it noticed what it was loaded with. 

“Uh, Fury is kinda paranoid and has his truck all tricked out,” the assist explained needlessly. “He knows we’re coming, we think.” 

The Asset glanced at the mission assist before going back to studying the rocket launcher. The mission assist shifted a little, but quickly went back to ignoring the Asset as mission assists did.

_(They are really useless. Let’s totally shoot them all now and get the hell out of here. Or just shoot a hole in the side of this jeep thing. You are a person. Not an asset. Let’s get the hell out of here.)_

The Asset glanced around. No one was paying it any heed. It went back to studying the rocket launcher. 

The voice felt familiar, yet it knew not to listen to it. It was not safe. HYDRA kept it safe, gave the Asset missions. Missions were the sole reason for existence. 

* * *

_Television dreams of tomorrow / We’re not the ones who’re meant to follow_

_-Green Day, “American Idiot”_

* * *

“Where ya been man?” Sam asked one bright, spring morning as Luke jogged up to him. 

“Work,” Luke said, smirking with a mischievous glint in his weird green eyes. (Seriously, were those contacts? No one naturally had eyes that color.)

“I get it, man, I get it,” Sam chuckled. 

Luke worked for the government and had given Sam a knowing look. Sam got that whatever Luke did was Top Secret, thus not up for discussion. Luke— like his buddy Captain America— vanished for periods of time. Sam thought it a bit odd that neither was ever at the park at the same time, but weirder things had happened. Like aliens in California.

“I trust you do. Shall we?”

Luke indicated gracefully with his right hand to the path. Sam nodded and they began running. Luke was not a chatter while running, but rather afterwards while they both recovered their lung function. Sam found it mildly amusing that Luke seemed annoyed that his lungs didn’t operate like a super solider’s, which when Sam had joked about it had caused Luke to look away and go silent— which was strange as Luke began speaking as soon as they stopped running and almost never stopped. Sam wasn’t sure the guy actually caught his breath before he headed home.

He clearly did need a friend if he saved all his yapping for Sam.  

“So,” Sam panted as they came to a stop under his favorite tree. “What’s the topic for today? World peace?”

“Captain America.”

Sam looked up at Luke, who like usual looked furious with his hair for being in his face, annoyed his breathing was rapid, and angry his legs felt like jelly. 

“He comes here sometimes, you know? Only on days you’re not around, though,” Sam laughed, giving up and collapsing to the ground. He’d stretch in a second. Honest. “But I get the feeling you know why that is.” 

“Quite right.”

Luke followed suit, only looking more graceful than Sam. Luke was always graceful—unnaturally so sometimes.

“What are your thoughts on him?”

“He’s unnaturally fast,” Sam instantly quipped. “But, besides that, he’s cool.”

“Cool,” Luke repeated as if he was unfamiliar with the word.

“Yeah, ya know, cool.” Sam sat up on his elbows and studied Luke, who was looking for something. What, Sam wasn’t sure, so he said, “I think he’s kinda lonely.” 

Luke frowned in epic proptions.

“I mean, I know he’s not really alone, as I know he lives with his SO, but there’s just this lonely air to him. Like he’s lost.”

“What is an SO?”

Sam chuckled. “Sometimes I think you’re an alien.”

Luke laughed. “I am.”

“Well, I know, you being British and all you’re technically alien to America, but I meant from like outer space, though, for all I know you might be.”

Sam gave Luke a look, to which he got a mischievous smirk. Sam rolled his eyes. He never got a straight answer out of the guy, but whatever. 

“SO, significant other. Life partner? Spouse? Well, not spouse. I don’t think he’s married,” Sam admitted. “Important relationship.”

Luke looked amused, yet slightly bemused. “Yet, he still seems lonely?”

“Lost. I think it’s more lost than lonely, now that I’m thinking more on it. I know a lot of people like that: lost. Come back from war to this place and it’s like an alien world. It’s all wrong. Reverse culture shock, only more hardcore.”

From the knowing look in Luke’s eyes, he got that. 

Sam shifted and sat up fully, stretching forward a little to relieve some back pain and stretch his hamstrings. “I’m honestly surprised he’s as well adjusted as he is, I mean for being as lost as he seems. It’s like he’s going through the motions and can’t figure out where he fits in. Happens to a lot of vets, actually.”

Luke nodded, looking somber. 

“Why you asking? Do you happen to know him, too?” Sam asked lightly, then sang, “I think you do-o-o-o-o.”  

Luke gave him an exaggerated shocked look, throwing his hand over his heart.

“Yeah, see, I knew it.” 

“I don’t run with Steven because it annoys me when he laps me running at his full potential and I get frustrated when he runs at my pace because it’s not his full potential.”

Sam shook his head. “I knew you two knew one another. What, are you plotting against me?”

“Heavens no. He might have mentioned you ran here and were more my speed,” Luke casually admitted, bending at the waist till his nose was pressed into his knees. 

Show off. 

“I wished to feel you out before I let my true relationship be known. Some people do not take to the fact that Captain America is…”

“Gay?” Sam guessed.

Luke paused for a little too long before he said, “Correct. While everyone believed that Margret Carter was his…sweetheart during the war, what they fail to know that while he was fond of her more than anyone other female and due to the time period would have married her and likely been happy, she knew better.”

“Oh?”

Luke smirked and nodded. “Yes. She told me when I met her.”

“Really? I didn’t know she was still alive.”

“Yes. There are only two left alive from the Howling Commandos. Both reside in England,” Luke said. “I’ve met a grandson of one of them. He works for the secret organization I watch.”

Luke winked.

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“So, I’ve been running with Captain America and his boyfriend for the past two weeks?”

Sam eyed Luke to see his reaction. He dramatically sighed, like he’d been caught out and hated it, yet Sam knew Luke liked the fact he’d figured it out without being told. 

“Yes. My best friend told me I needed a friend outside of…my work and Steven seemed to be impressed enough with you to mention you running in this park. She said her life improved greatly when she began socialization with normals,” Luke lightly said, smiling the smallest and saddest looking smile Sam had ever witnessed on a person. It was damn tragic too because it looked damn good on the guy. 

“Well, I’m as normal as they come. Most days,” Sam allowed and winked. “I totally do normal things. Run most mornings, have a nine to five job, which I have to get to, and I eat all three meals at the same time each day. Say hi to Steve when you see him next. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“I know,” Luke said, his face going dark. “But, I will pass on your greeting.”

Luke fluidly got to his feet and extended his hand to Sam. Sam pulled himself up. 

“See ya tomorrow, or you leaving?”

“You might see me if I can stand to have Steven lap us multiple times.”

“Aw, it’s not that bad, man,” Sam laughed. “It’s kinda grows on you.” 

* * *

_This is not the way I saw anything happening / I’m only older, screaming over destiny tonight_

_-Lucky Boy’s Confusion, “When Bad News Gets Worse”_

* * *

The Asset stared down into the manhole. The Mission had gotten away. He was gone. Where had he gone?

Everything was…different. This was not normal, to operate in the light of day, nor in front of civilians. Something was…wrong.

_(Yeah, we’re a ghost story people tell secret agents to frighten them at night, buddy. We’re not supposed to be out in the middle of the day disrupting rush hour.)_

Didn’t matter. It turned and headed back towards the van, ignoring the screaming, honking, and shouting around him. 

“Know where you gotta go?” its handler asked when it returned to the van. 

The Asset nodded. Recalling the mission file, it gave the address of one of the Mission’s mission assists. Mission Assist Captain Rogers AKA Captain America was where the Mission would go. 

( _STEVE!)_

Who?

_(Steve?)_

Not an answer.

_(Steve.)_

Ignore.

* * *

_An outdated map crumbled in my pocket / But I didn’t care where I was going / ‘Cause they’re all the different names for the same place_

_-Death Cab for Cutie, “Different Names for The Same Thing”_

* * *

Sam was wrapping up his counseling group when he noticed Steve Rogers looming in the back of the room, an expression of longing on his face and looking like a huge lost puppy.

“Alright, I think we’re done for today,” Sam said, turning his attention back to the group. 

The group began to break up, Jessica stopping to speak to him one on one. 

“I’ll see you next week,” she said when they’d settled her issue, smiling a little at him before leaving. 

“Yeah,” Sam called after her before walking over to Steve. He smiled at Steve. “Look who it is. Running Man.”

“Caught the few last minutes. Pretty intense,” Steve said, nodding his head at the empty room. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, brother, we’ve all got the same problems. Guilt, regret.”

Steve looked at him, studying him with practiced and knowing eyes. “Who’d you loose?”

“My wingman,” Sam answered. It’d hurt to talk about at first, but it’d gotten easier with time. Now, it only hurt a little. “His name was Riley. It was a standard PJ rescue op, night mission, nothing we hadn’t done a hundred times, till RPG knocked Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could have done. It’s like I was just up there to watch.”

Steve’s eyes filled with understanding. And Sam knew he’d get it, as everyone knew how Steve had lost his best friend. Bucky Barnes, the only Howling Commando to loose his life in action, fell off a train into a ravine. Nothing Steve could have done. He’d just been there to watch. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly. 

“After that, I had a hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

Steve stared at Sam with the biggest, bluest eyes. Honestly. Between him and Luke, Sam was wondering if there was something they did to make their eyes so weirdly intense. 

“Get the feeling you felt the same way,” Sam tried, eyeing the big lug. 

Steve’s answer was the saddest smile Sam had ever seen and it was tragic on too many levels for Sam to really contemplate. 

“But,” Steve started in a searching tone, “you’re happy now? Back in the world?”

Sam smiled knowingly. “Hey, number of people giving me orders is down to zero. So, hell, yeah. You thinking about getting out?”

Steve stared at Sam, then looked away, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. The look of being lost at sea returned full force. 

“No. I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did,” Steve admitted, looking even more lost if possible. 

Sheesh. Sam shook his head and looked upwards for strength. 

“You and Luke could try Ultimate Fighting. He could be your manager. I bet he’d be good at that, wrangle you all the good fights and get you a ton of money.”

Steve stared at Sam. For a second, Sam thought he was going to freak out or look completely confused, but he laughed. Like really laughed. Sam smiled, feeling a well of pleasure. 

“Just an idea off the top of my head. But seriously, you could do anything you wanted. What makes you happy? Besides Luke.”

The amusement quickly drained from his face and Steve sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Life needs to be more than just…my boyfriend, but I don’t know.”

“True. You need hobbies. You got a hobby?”

“I draw.”

“You draw. Come on, man.”

“Did Luke tell you my entire life story?”

“No. Luke didn’t mention you till this morning,” Sam admitted. “No, brother, I can see the paint under your fingernails.”

Steve looked at where his hands were hidden in his pockets and quirked an eyebrow.

“I notice when you help me up. Now, Luke lacks paint, so you must be painting and not him.” 

“Okay, I do paint. And draw. Not as often as I used to since we moved to DC.”

Sam nodded his agreement. “You could become an artist. You’re Captain America! People’d buy that stuff!”

Steve snorted. “That’s the problem. I am Captain America. People expect—”

“Who cares?”

Steve sighed. “You sound like Luke.”

“Well, I’ve been spending a lot of mornings listening to him talk.”

“Really?” Steve asked, sounding surprised. 

“Yeah, man. He loves talking after we’re done running. Not sure how he talks and catches his breath at the same time, but eh,” Sam shrugged. “Nice guy. A little strange.”

“He’s more than a little strange,” Steve said, a fond smile on his face. Ah, and there was that sparkle that dopes in love got. “Speaking of Luke, I ought to get home. I didn’t see him when I dropped by this morning— likely because he was out with you.”

“Yeah. Go home. Talk with Luke,” Sam encouraged. “Seriously. If you are not happy doing what you’re doing now, talk to him. I get a feeling he’s not too keen on whatever he’s doing either. You could both start something new.”

Steve frowned a little, but nodded. 

* * *

_The same old confrontation at the bar in the saloon / But it’s just another tricky situation_

_-Thin Lizzy, “Killer Without a Cause”_

* * *

The Asset waited. Its eyes were trained on the windows of the apartment where the Mission was located. The dark man had drawn all the blinds before the Asset had arrived and had not moved once he was within the apartment. The owner of the apartment was absent. Someone had entered the apartment earlier, but it was not the target, so the Asset had not shot. He was a tall man with black hair, thin and lithe. He was in the apartment for all of a minute before he exited once more and strode off. No words were exchanged, but he had entered the apartment. 

He’d not returned. 

The owner of the apartment roared up on a motorcycle. Something shifted within the Asset at the sight. 

_(It’s familiar. We know this. That guy on a motorcycle. We know this.)_

The Asset shook his head. 

The longer he was out of cryo, the louder the voice got.

It. Not he.

_(You’re a he. Trust me.)_

Deny.

The Asset pushed the earbud into his ear and flicked it on. Loud music filled hi—its ears. The music…

_(We know this song!)_

Deny.

_(You cannot deny I know this song. I know it. I’ve danced to it. We’ve danced to it. We are the same.)_

Deny. 

“I don’t remember giving you a key.”

The voice was soft, but the Asset could hear it over the music. 

_(Do we have super hearing?)_

Ignore. 

“You really think I need one? My wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem.”

The light flicked on. It flicked off right away, but not before the Asset was able to discern where the target was located. 

“I’m sorry to have to do this, but I’ve got nowhere else to crash.” 

“Who else knows about your wife?”

The other man was not good at lying. He was unable to do it. 

_(Oh, he can lie, just not when he’s nervous. Why do I know that?)_

Unknown.

“Just…my friends.” 

“Is that what we are?”

“That’s up to you.”

The Asset lined up his shot and took it. Three shots fired and the target collapsed with a thud. The Asset broke down his gun. He could hear what was going on in the apartment through his earpiece. Another person, a woman, rushed into the room, revealing herself to be an agent of SHIELD sent to watch the mission assist. The Asset looked up as he snapped the case shut to see the former Mission’s assist looking out the window, staring right at him.

_(Wait a sec…)_

The Asset ran. 

It felt strange to be running away for some reason, especially when the man was able to easily keep up with him.

It.

( _He. He. He. He. You are a he.)_

The man kept up with _it_.

_(Sourpuss.)_

No one could keep up with the Asset. 

The man caught up to hi—IT and threw something at its head. The Asset stopped and caught the object the man threw. He took note of how light the metal object was and how familiar it felt even in his metal hand. He stared right at the man, who was tall, blond, well built, and powerful. 

_(STEVE!)_

They stared at one another for a beat before the Asset threw the round metal object right back at the other man as hard as the metal arm could muster and jumped from the building, using the shadows to vanish from sight. 

_(THAT WAS STEVE! Where are you going? That was Steve!)_

Who the hell is Steve?

_(Steve?)_

Not an answer. Ignore.

_(No, don’t ignore. Steve is important. I just…don’t remember why.)_

Confirm.

* * *

_I don’t regret it in spite of it all / If I can’t convince you then nobody can I guess / I’ve got too much time on my hands_

_-The Vaccines, “A Lack of Understanding”_

* * *

“Yes. I understand. Of course,” Luke said quietly before he set his StarkPhone down and tried to smash it with his hand. He looked really annoyed when it didn’t work, so he set it on the ground and stomped on it multiple times.

That did the trick. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, staring at bits of StarkPhone on his kitchen floor. 

Luke had shown up out of the blue. When pressed on how he knew where Sam lived, Luke eluded the secret government organization he worked for told him. Or at least that was what Sam translated when Luke said he’d hacked his bank account. 

Luke hadn’t really hacked Sam’s bank account. Sam hoped he’d know if that had happened. 

“There’s something very rotten in the state of Denmark,” Luke proclaimed, reaching into his two-thousand dollar Ferragamo messenger bag and pulling out the weirdest looking laptop Sam had ever seen. He opened it up, his slim fingers flying over the keyboard, that was lit up by a back light. Sam watched as the programs flew by until he opened a messaging window and sent out a message that said “Only use iLoki,” then began hacking something.

Okay, so maybe Luke actually had hacked into Sam’s bank account. And what the hell was an iLoki? 

“What do you really do for a living?”

“I hack into SHEILD,” Luke said, fingers still flying across the keyboard and a look of concentration on his face. “I cannot believe I missed something this big. I cannot believe Jarvis missed it. Would it be a trouble if I remain here?”

“No, bro. Not at all. What are friends for?” Sam shrugged. “Where’s Steve?”

Luke bit his bottom lip and didn’t answer. Instead he reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a sleek, black phone. He dialed and waited a moment. 

“Is Barton with you?” Long pause. “Wasn’t he supposed to visit?” Even longer pause. “What? He’s what? How did you find out?” Long pause. “So he is not coming?” Short pause. “You’re going there? You are there.” Pause. “That’s…good— I just cannot believe that’s his big, dark secret. Is he ashamed of them?” Long pause. “Well, okay, I’ll give him that. But, why hasn’t he told me? Or Steve? Does Natasha know?” Short pause. “Well, that’s good to know. Say hello to Barton and his wife. And children. And only use this phone to communicate.” Long pause. “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark and no I do not think I’m Hamlet before you even say it.” 

Sam snorted. 

“SHEILD has been infiltrated by HYDRA.”

There was a loud screech from the tiny speaker of the phone. 

“Yes. My feelings exactly. Do not use any Stark tech and only use your iPhone in an emergency. And tell Barton the same. If Barton’s played his cards right, no one knows about his family, so you are safe there.” Pause. “Yes. She’s with Steve.” Long pause. “No, I do not wish to speak to Barton. Goodbye.”

Luke set the phone down. This one he didn’t stomp on. 

“So, this Barton has a secret family?”

Luke stared at Sam for a moment before nodding. “I feel blindsided. Two huge secrets in a day. I am loosing my edge.”

“Well, if he didn’t want to share…especially if he works for SHEILD who is being run by HYDRA?”

Luke looked up sharply, shaking his head. “Samuel…”

Luke appeared to struggle with what to say. Sam sat down at the table across from the dark haired guy and waited him out. Whatever was going on was big, bigger than anything Sam had been privy to before and he kind of wanted in. 

“You have heard of HYDRA, correct?”

“Yeah. German World War II faction of the Nazis, right? They were the group Captain America and crew battled, yeah?”

Luke nodded. 

“They still around, then? That sucks.”

Luke nodded again, tapping his long fingers against the tabletop. “They’ve infiltrated the organization Steven works for at the highest levels. And they plan to make their move soon to fully take over and let the world know they are still here and will easily take control. They, in their view, have made the world so unstable the populus will welcome them.” 

“Something happen to Steve?” Sam guessed. 

“He and Agent Romanov are on the run. He’s a wanted man,” Luke quietly said, looking away. “If Agent Romanov doesn’t want them found, they will not be. Though, Director, or rather former Director Fury is hoping that they follow the trail of clues he’s left behind, so hopefully I’ll meet up with them at some point.”

“So, what? This Fury guy told you that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD and…now Steve’s a wanted man because…”

“Because he’s not HYDRA and will stop them. HYDRA is his sworn enemy since they took his best friend captive.” 

“And SHEILD is HYDRA?”

“It seems that is the case.”

Sam let out a low whistle and sat back in his chair. 

* * *

_They say you’re a fanatic with a mission / We all go through hell in some kind of way_

_-The Kinks, “Killer’s Eyes”_

* * *

The Asset sat in the dark of Alexander Pierce’s kitchen waiting. His handler had informed him to go to Pierce for his next assignment, as it was of the most importance, level six. He silently set one of his firearms on the table, so if needed, Pierce could use it. If Pierce was the man in charge, he needed to be armed at all times, even in his own home. 

“Good night,” the man called out, faux friendly. He turned and returned to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and turned to look at the Asset. “Want some milk?”

The Asset stared. 

He—It. It could not remember— did its remember— the last time someone has asked hi—it if it wanted something. 

_(Sheesh, I don’t even remember.)_

Was want something it could do? 

_(Yes. Want is something we can do. We want to get out of here and find STEVE! He’s alive! Someone told me he was dead. He is clearly not dead. Still stupid, but not dead. And he’s really important.)_

Shut up. 

_(No. You don’t understand. It’s like on the edge of my mind—)_

Shut up.

“The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. Two targets, level six. One target, level one,” Pierce said, pouring a glass of milk. He took a long sip before moving over to the table where the Asset sat. He smirked at the gun on the table. 

_(Smug asshole.)_

“They already cost me Zola. I want confirmed deaths in ten hours.”

Pierce threw three folders at the Asset as someone entered the kitchen. Pierce turned around sharply. 

“Sorry, Mr Pierce, I forgot my phone.”

“Oh, Renata, I wish you would have knocked.”

Pierce picked up the Asset’s gun and shot the woman. 

A combination of…something flooded through the Asset as the sight of the cold hearted killing done before him. 

_(Emotions. Those are your emotions, buddy.)_

It was pointless. The woman likely hadn’t really seen the Asset. He was hidden in shadows. She likely hadn’t heard anything either. She’d forgotten her phone.

_(HYDRA is the enemy, they are bad guys. Bad guy skill innocent people.)_

Shut up. 

“Anyway, two level six targets,” Pierce went on as if there wasn’t a dead woman lying behind him bleeding on his kitchen floor. “There will likely be a third, the level one, with them when you find them. We don’t know where he got to, but he is the God of Mischief, so he likely is pretty good at hiding.”

The Asset opened the files. The first one showed one of the old target’s assists. The tall, blonde solider. 

( _STEVE!)_

The other target was a redheaded woman. She was…something. The final folder showed the tall, dark haired, lithe man, who had striking eyes and was looking rather sinister as he crossed a street. It was the dark haired man who’d entered the apartment earlier and left without saying a word to the past Mission. 

“That’s the last photo we managed to get of Loki before he vanished,” Pierce lamented, as he typed something into his phone. “He’s good at giving us the slip even without his magic.”

The Asset read the file folder carefully on the man named Loki. 

_(Is this guy for real?)_

Confirm. Man is real.

_(Not what I meant.)_

Loki was an alien who was now supposedly mortal. In London, six months ago, he evidently died. Agent Fury had arrived and done something—something that interested HYDRA greatly. So besides being a former magic wielding god, the guy didn’t die. Hence being level one, he could live if needed.

“Think he might be hacking into the CCTV as he walks,” Pierce complained. He gazed at the files on the table and sighed. “Steve Rogers just won’t die. Hopefully, you’ll solve this problem for me.”

_(Of course, he’s a little punk who took all the stupid in the room. Of course he won’t just up and die._ )

What?

* * *

_If I have one principal, then it’s to stand at you, brother / This boy’s so spectacular_

_-Franz Ferdinand, “This Boy”_

* * *

Sam turned the tap and filled a glass with cold water. He heard Luke head into the guest room to shower after their bizarre morning run. Instead of going to the Mall like usual, Luke made them run around the neighborhood while he did something on his weird-ass cell phone. 

The shower started and there was a knock on the door. Frowning a little, Sam headed for the door. Upon opening it, he was faced with a beat up looking Steve Rogers and the redhead who drove the Stingray Corvette, who looked disheveled and bored. 

“Hey, man.” 

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve began. “We need a place to lay low.”

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” the redhead flatly stated. 

Sam looked between the two. While the chick was hot, there was something about the look on Steve Rogers’ face that made it utterly impossible to turn him away. If he did, it’d be like kicking a golden retriever. Plus, hey, Captain America needed his help. Sam stepped aside. 

“Not everyone.”

Steve and the redhead came in and Sam shut the door after glancing around to see if anyone out of place in the neighborhood. He didn’t see anyone. 

Likely because Luke had hacked all the CCTV cameras or other cameras in the area to make it so Steve could get here safely. 

“Whose here?” the redhead demanded, stance changing as if she was ready to battle at a moment’s notice. 

The shower shut off. 

“Luke,” Sam said, looking at Steve who lit up like a lighthouse. He turned so fast he was a blur as he charged down the hallway. He flung the door open without knocking. Luke began to say something but stopped short, likely when Steve grabbed him and knocked the air out of him.

“Ooph.”

Sam chuckled.

“You know them both?” the redhead asked. 

“Yeah. Steve laps me while Luke actually runs with me,” Sam explained merrily. “Can I get you something to, uh, help you clean up?”

“I’ll shower in Luke’s room,” she said.

“Can I get your name?” Sam called out as she headed down the hall. 

“Natasha.”

She slammed the door to the room. 

Shaking his head, Sam headed into his own room to shower quickly. He decided he’d make a huge breakfast. They were likely hungry after whatever they’d went through. Sam would be. Actually, Sam was starving as the little he had before his run had worn off. He needed a recharge. Luckily, he didn’t have to go to work today. 

After his shower, Sam headed into the kitchen and found Luke seated at the table, head in his hands. His hair was wet, curling at the ends in a telltale manner.

“Didn’t know you had curly hair,” Sam commented. “You straighten it?”

Luke cast Sam a dark look before running his hands through his hair furiously. Sam chuckled, heading to the fridge.

“Anything either of them don’t eat?”

“No. They will eat whatever you put in front of them,” Luke replied. 

“So, how is he?”

“Rather chipper for someone who just found out he died for nothing,” Luke remarked, tapping his fingers against the table. “But, I guess this gives him purpose. And he knows who he is fighting. There is a clear villain.”

“Yeah, but it’s mostly the organization he works for,” Sam remarked, cracking a half a dozen eggs into a fry pan. He turned to look at Luke when he didn’t answer. “Ah.”

“Yes?”

“He really did just need it in black and white, didn’t he?”

Luke nodded. 

“So, do you know what he plans to do?”

“Something foolish,” Luke admitted, fingers stopping. Sam glanced at him as he put some bread in the toaster. Luke folded his arms across his chest and frowned into the distance. “I believe I am going to…find Fury.”

“Fury’s dead, Loki!” Steve shouted from down the hallway. “I told you that!”

Luke rolled his eyes.

“Uh…” Sam said, glancing at Luke. “Does he often call you Loki? I mean, it kind of makes sense.”

Luke looked amused. “Oh, does it?”

“Well, sort of. You’re kind of mischievous.”

Luke chuckled. “I am Loki.”

“What?” Sam asked, dropping the spatula on the floor. 

“I am Loki,” Luke said wearing a razor sharp grin. 

“The one who led the Battle of Malibu? You the guy who had the army of crazy looking aliens?”

“Yes.”

“And they let you wander around on your own?”

“Yes.”

“LOKI!” Steve shouted. “Stop trying to scare him!”

“He’s not scared,” Luke called back before turning to face Sam once more. (Oddly, Sam wasn’t scared. More confused than scared.) “It is a long story and I’ve not time to tell it before I find Agent Hill. She is still alive, right?”

“Yes!” 

Luke rolled his eyes. “Now, let’s see…”

Luke trailed off, pulling his messenger bag into his lap and digging around. He finally found what he wanted and slapped a thumb drive on the table. 

“Read that at your leisure. I’m going to say farewell to Steven and Agent Romanov, then be on my way.” 

“You’re really Loki? As in the God Mischief?”

“I was the God of Mischief. It’s all in that file. You may still call me Luke if that makes you more comfortable.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want.”

“Loki will do,” Loki said, standing fluidly up. 

Well, if he was a space Viking, it explained the unnatural grace. 

* * *

_Wherever you go, whatever you do / I will be right here waiting for you / Whatever it takes_

_-Richard Marx, “Right Here Waiting”_

* * *

The Mission was missing. 

All the Missions were MIA. 

The only option was to wait. 

The Asset waited. 

_(Waiting is boring.)_

Confirm. 

* * *

_The world is closing in / Did you ever think that we could be so close, like brothers / The future’s in the air, I can feel it everywhere_

_-Scorpions, “Wind of Change”_

* * *

“So, the question is: who in SHIELD could launch a domestic missile assault?”

“Pierce.”

“Who is sitting on top of the most secure building in the city.”

“But, he’s not working alone. Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

“So was Jasper Sitwell.”

“So, the real question is: how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?”

Sam rolled his eyes. The pair had been pow-wowing like this since they’d entered the kitchen. 

“The answer is: you don’t,” Sam put in, reminding the two he was in the room with them. In unison they stared at him, wearing identical looks of confusion. Having their attention, he dropped a file folder on the table between them. 

“What’s this?” Steve asked, flipping the folder open. 

“Call it a resume,” Sam casually said, sitting back down across from the pair. 

Natasha picked up a photo from the file folder. She frowned a little and asked, “Is this Bakmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?”

Sam nodded. 

Natasha huffed, turning to Steve. “You didn’t tell me he was para-rescue.”

Steve ignored her, instead pulling the photo of Riley out. 

“This Riley?” Steve quietly asked. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve stared. 

“I heard they couldn’t bring choppers in because of the RPGs. What did you use, stealth chutes?” Natasha inquired. 

“No. These,” Sam said, pulling out another folder.

Steve took it, read it, and frowned deeply. “I thought you said you were a pilot.”

“I never said I was a pilot.”

Steve continued to stare at the file, the little wrinkle between his eyebrows getting deeper. Sam remained looking calm, though on the inside he was jumping.

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason.”

Sam shook his head and grinned. “Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.”

Never mind Loki had technically left Steve in his care. Not that the big lug needed a handler, but he did need all the help he could muster if he was going to do what Sam thought he was going to do.

“He never watches his left flank,” Loki had whispered in Sam’s ear before he left. “No idea why.”

Steve had glared, denied he didn’t watch his left side. Natasha added he had a bad habit of jumping out of planes and high places without a chute.

Okay. Maybe the guy did need a handler. 

Steve studied Sam for a solid minute before he nodded, looking like the weight of the world had dropped on his shoulders. He pulled the photos of Sam in the wings out of the folder and extended it to Natasha. 

“Where can we get our hands on these?” Steve asked. 

“The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall.”

Steve looked at Natasha who simply shrugged. He turned back to Sam and said, “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

And it wasn’t for the pair of them. They got the wings and got on with their plan to kidnap a senior SHEILD agent. Part of Sam was giddy at being part of this, another part was waiting to wake up. 

* * *

_I’m ready to make it / Don’t care what the weather, don’t care ‘bout no trouble / Got myself together / I feel the kind of protection that’s all around me_

_-Marvin Gaye, “Trouble Man”_

 


	3. Taxation Without Representation

**Disclaimer: I do now own any of the Marvel characters. Nor do I own Captain America: Winter Solider, screenplay by Christopher Marcus and Stephan McFeely. If you know it, I do not own it.**

**“Human” written by Christina Perri and Martin Johnson.**

* * *

_‘Cause you were born on the fourth of July, freedom ring / Well, something on the surface it stings / I see something on the surface / Well, it kind of makes me nervous_

_-Jason Mraz, “Remedy (I Won’t Worry)_

* * *

The Mission. 

_(He is not a mission, you idiot.)_

Shut up.

The Mission. He—The Asset. He was the Asset. No, it. Not he. 

 _(Buddy, we’re a_ he _. Accept it and move on.)_

The Asset had a mission— actually, it—fine— he had three missions. And three missions were hiding. And he waiting was becoming tidious.

_(Yeah, waiting is boring.)_

Confirm. 

“We’ve got eyes on him.”

The Asset looked up from where he was sitting. Resting. No, occupying space and waiting. Weapons did not sit. 

_(You are sitting, you punk. In a dark corner being creepy. And I doubt weapons wait and get bored waiting.)_

Shut up. 

“Let’s go. Move out! He’s got target two with him! Still no sign of target three, but we’re a go!”

The Asset stood and moved in the direction indicated. Someone— his handler, Rumlow— slapped him on the back and gave the Asset a leering grin. 

“This’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to kill Captain America.”

_(Why on earth would you always want to kill Captain America? Has he even met him? Isn’t Captain America kind of like apple pie? I haven’t had pie in ages. Can we—)_

SHUT UP!

Captain America: Mission One. 

Natasha Romanov: Mission Two.

Loki (Luke) Laufey-Odinson: Mission Three.

_(What kind of last name is that? It doesn’t even flow from the mouth right.)_

SHUT UP.

“God, sometimes I wished you knew what you were doing,” the man snickered, throwing the door open to a nondescript van. 

The Asset got in, watching vacantly as the mission assists loaded him up his various knives and grenades. There were more than usual, then again, there were more Missions. 

“He only uses a shield,” was an offered explanation. 

“We’re totally allowed to make a lot of noise for this one,” another giddily said. 

“It’s a bullet proof shield,” someone else said. “It’s not like he’s holding a piece of foam in front of him.” 

Shield. Why did he know what—the file. The file had explained everything as always. He knew all he needed from the file. 

_(No, you moron. You caught it yesterday. And we used it before, a long time ago. I think. Maybe?)_

Closing his eyes tightly, the Asset hid behind his hair while the van pulled into traffic.

* * *

_Now here I lie in the street / An invitation for you to steal a glance at me while all the village, it gathers_

_-Project 86, “Say Goodnight to the Bad Guy”_

* * *

Sam sat at the cafe and watched the SHEILD agent say goodbye to the senator who hated Stark. Not that Sam really blamed the guy for hating Stark. Stark was kind of annoying and likely one of those acquired tastes that took years to acquire. 

“Now, Sam,” said Natasha’s voice in his ear through the super high tech earwig. 

Sam dialed the phone number Natasha programed into his phone (after doing something else to it) and waited for Sitwell to answer.

“Yes, sir?”

“Agent Sitwell, how was lunch?” Sam breezily asked. “I hear the crab cakes there are delicious.”

Short pause. “Who is this?”

Sam smirked, leaning back. “The good looking guy in the sunglasses at your ten o’clock.”

He watched Sitwell look the wrong direction.

“Your other ten o’clock.”

Sitwell finally found him.

“There you go.”

“What do you want?” 

“Oh, so much, but from you, you’re gonna go around the corner, to your right. Not mine, but your right. There’s gonna be a grey car two spaces down. You’ll get in and take a ride.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because that tie looks really expensive,” Sam said easily. “I’d hate to mess it up.”

He watched Sitwell look down and find the little, red light from the laser pointer Natasha had on her person. (Where, Sam didn’t know, but she had at least a whole arsenal on her person somehow, plus a random laser pointer. And a hair straightener. She must have the same tailor as Steve. Sam needed to get to know that tailor.) 

“Fine,” Sitwell said, hanging up and turning to his right.

“He’s on his way,” Sam said.

“Copy,” Natasha responded. 

Sam stood up, smashed the cell phone under his boot (morned for his two month old StarkPhone 5), and headed to get suited up for part three of their plan. Sam was kind of looking forward to part three, as it involved him flying and scooping a falling man out of the sky. 

* * *

_And I’ll find strength in pain / And I will change my ways / I’ll know my name as it’s called again_

_-Mumford & Sons, “The Cave_

* * *

“They’ve got Sitwell.”

“Well, shit. Okay, he high priority?”

“Yes. Their location has been uploaded.”

“Good, good, good. We’re closer than we thought. Okay, you,” Rumlow pointed at the Asset, “take out Sitwell first. We can’t let him leaking information. This is Sitwell.” He pulled up a photo on a tablet. The Asset nodded. “Then, go on with your mission. Remember, these two,” he paused to show the Asset the photos of Mission One and Two as if the Asset was prone to forgetting what his missions… well current missions looked like, “are top priority after Sitwell. They’ve got another guy with them. Ignore him. He’s not your mission.”

The Asset nodded. 

“Alright, time for you to do your thing and don’t bother with who sees. It’s time to come into the light. Go get the dark grey Chevy Impala.”

The door slid open while they were moving through traffic. The Asset jumped out of the van. He spotted the correct car ahead of him and began to make his way towards it over the roofs of other cars. He had a vague feeling he’d done something similar before, but pushed it aside. 

He had a mission.

He leapt at the gray car, landing on the roof silently. Using his metal arm, he anchored himself and pulled Sitwell out using his regular arm. Luckily his regular arm was covered in leather, so he didn’t get cut up by the glass that went flying when he smashed the window. 

_(Oh, so now you’re worried about hurting yourself. I see how this works.)_

Deny. 

After tossing Sitwell into traffic _(you punk, why did you do that?_ ), he pulled a gun out, balanced on his knees, and began shooting the roof of the car. He kept at it till the car screeched to a halt and he went careening off the roof. He flipped over, landing on his feet and using his metal hand to slow him down. Ignoring the crashing and honking all around him, he watched the car till it was rammed behind by a mission assist vehicle, making it head straight for him. Once again utilizing the metal arm, he flipped himself over the car, landing on the roof. Once he was steady he reached down and smashed the windshield with the metal arm. He took a brief second to enjoy in the expression of the man behind the steering wheel, the one to ignore, before he ripped the wheel out and threw it over his shoulder. 

“SHIT!” the man exclaimed. 

_(You got that right, buddy.)_

Shut up.

The Asset jumped onto the mission assist vehicle as the gray car swerved all over the road till it hit something and flipped over several times. The trio was somehow able to escape from the car by sliding on the car door. The Asset jumped off the mission assist vehicle as it swerved to a stop. Ignore Man rolled away, but Mission One and Two were together, Mission One protecting Mission Two. 

_(Classic Steve. That is Steve, right?)_

Shut up.

_(You notice that’s not working, don’t you?)_

Glaring, the Asset took the rocket launcher offered to him. He shot it off as Mission One pushed Mission Two away. The rocket hit Mission One’s shield and sent him flying up and over a car and off the bridge. Hopefully that meant Mission One was down.

_(He’s not.)_

Confirm.

Turning towards Mission Two, he stalked ahead of the mission assists, who were all shooting at Ignore Man and Mission Two. Ignore Man had no weapon, but Mission Two had a gun and once she found cover behind a minivan, she returned fire. The Asset launched a rocket at the minivan, but Mission Two jumped over the medium before the minivan exploded. 

_(I like her.)_

Deny. 

The mission assists continued to fire as he lined up another shot and took aim at a stupid convertible.

_(You’ve got opinions on convertibles?)_

Confirm. 

He exploded it as Mission Two went behind it. Turning, he dropped the rocket launcher and took the offered machine gun, the Asset marched to the side of the bridge and looked through the scope. Mission One completion needed confirmation. 

However, before he found Mission One, someone shot him in his goggles. There was only one person who’d do that.

( _I really like her.)_

DENY. 

He sat down and removed the damaged goggles and stared into space for a moment. Why would she shoot him in the face? That made him really…

_(The emotion is anger. And your face is really pretty. We’re kind of prideful about our pretty face. Or at least we were. At some point. Our hair too. We’ve got great hair.)_

SHUT UP.

He stood back up and shoot without looking where the redhead shot ather till he ran out of bullets. 

He didn’t hit her.

Scowling, he turned to the mission assists and said, “I’ll take care of her. Find him.”

The mission assists nodded. Without looking, he mounted the side of the bridge and jumped, landing on top of a car, crushing the roof. The glass crushing under his boots felt good. He stalked down the street towards Mission Two while the mission assists took out Mission One, who was hiding in an overturned bus.

 _(I doubt he is hiding. Likely knocked himself out, stupid punk.)_  

Mission Two had a good head start. He stalked down the middle of the street, blowing up a police car. 

_(Why did you do that?)_

They were not with HYDRA and would hinder the Mission. As he reloaded he became aware how quiet the street had gone, even though it was daylight and there had been people everywhere. They’d all abandoned their cars and ran for it. 

_(Smart cookies.)_

He stood in the middle of the street, unmoving for a moment before he slowly bent down, becoming aware of a noise. Female voice, lacking regional accent. Mission Two. 

“Civilians threatened. I make an LZ, twenty-three hundred block at Virginia Avenue. Rendvousz twenty-minutes.” 

Yanking off one of the grenades on his vest, he rolled it towards the car where the voice was issuing. He stood and aimed the gun, waiting for Mission Two to run off again. A grunt and a foot in his face alerted him Mission Two was not in fact behind the car but behind him. She somehow wrapped herself around him and tried to strangle him with a wire. He threw her off and she hit a car hard, though it did not slow her down. She had something in her hand by the time he grabbed his gun and threw it at him. It did something when it latched onto his metal arm. She leapt to her feet, taking off once more. He ripped the object off, his metal arm feeling strange. He moved his fingers a few times, then realigned the arm plates before he felt full strength return.

He hated Mission Two.

( _Deny_.)

He stalked in the direction Mission Two had run off to find her running in a straight line, making sure it was harder to shoot the civilians. Granted, this made it easier to shoot her, which he did. Finally. He only got her in the shoulder, but Mission Two was down. Stalking towards where she’d gone down, he jumped onto a car and raised the gun to finish this mission. He paused and noticed someone running at him from the side. 

Mission One.

_(Hey, it’s Steve! Totally sure it’s Steve!)_

Pressing his lips together, he engaged Mission One.

_(No, no, no, no, no, no. What are you doing?)_

He punched the shield with his metal fist and felt the clang in his brain.

The fight felt familiar. He went through all his guns, grabbed a knife, yet the Mission kept coming back and didn’t use anything other than that stupid shield.

 _(That stupid shield keeps his stupid self alive.)_  

The Asset grabbed Mission One’s only weapon and chucked it away. It lodged itself in the side of the van. The Mission glanced over his shoulder, but leapt to his feet once more and charged. 

Without any weapons.

_(Told you chock-full of stupid.)_

The Asset pulled out a knife and got to work. Mission One met his every move, blocked even the thrusts with the metal arm. It was like he knew what the Asset was going to do before he did it.

_(You taught him to fight, you punk.)_

And no matter how hard the Asset pushed, punched, and hit, the guy just kept getting up and coming back for more.

What was wrong with this guy?

_(I’ve wondered that for years.)_

The Mission managed to dislodge the shield. They engaged one another once more. The Mission got the upper hand in the fight by using the shield to dent the metal arm, cutting off something within the arm. Somehow in the process of being flipped over by his metal arm after it’d been dented, the mask was knocked off the bottom of his face. He stood up and turned to face the Mission, who was staring at him like he was looking at a ghost. 

 _(Of course, buddy. We’re dead as far as he knew.)_  

The Mission stood there, panting with his mouth hanging open and a look of complete shock on his face. 

Was his face that disgusting? I thought we were pretty?

 _(You’re an idiot.)_  

“Bucky?” Mission One asked in a shocked voice. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” he asked, rising a gun to shoot the man in the face. 

_(YOU ARE! DON’T SHOOT STEVE!)_

He suddenly went flying sideways as someone with wings tackled him to the ground.

Bucky? His designation was Bucky?

_(THAT IS YOUR NAME! YOU KNOW HIM! THAT IS STEVE ROGERS! HE IS YOUR FRIEND!)_

Deny. The Asset does not know Mission One. He is the mission. 

_(HE IS STEVE! YOU KNOW STEVE! STEVE ROGERS IS YOUR FRIEND!)_

The Asset did not know what to do. He stood up to find the blonde man still standing there, mouth open and shield hanging uselessly at his side. 

_(SHEILD YOURSELF, STEVE! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, STEVE?)_

They stared at one another.

_(Please, you know him. That’s Steve, you cannot shoot Steve. Please, don’t kill Steve.)_

He is Mission One. The Asset always completed missions.

The Asset raised his gun to shoot but, something behind him blew up. 

The redhead had found a rocket launcher.

_(I love her.)_

Deny?

_(You’re not sure about that?)_

Subject: Love. Unknown.

_(Oh, boy…)_

He retreated. 

Mission One thought he knew the Asset. No one knew the Asset. The asset was a weapon. 

_(He knows you. You’ve known one another your entire lives. Even if we’ve forgotten bits, that’s Steve. He’s our friend. We cannot hurt Steve!)_

“Who the hell is Bucky?” he whispered as he hurried through the streets to the extraction point. 

* * *

_Take off your armor, lay down your sword / We’re going round in circles we can’t afford_

_-Starsailor, “Give Up the Ghost”_

* * *

“Well, crap.”

“It was him,” Steve repeated for the millionth time, clearly not realizing the shit they were in. “He looked right at me and he didn’t know me.”

Sam sighed, rubbing between his eyes. “How is that even possible? It was like seventy years ago he fell to his death.”

Granted, the man he was speaking crashed a plane into an iceberg in the Arctic and was thought to be dead. Steve was currently walking, talking, and clearly not dead and still as young as he looked in his last newsreel. There could be a chance Bucky was doing the same, though Sam wasn’t sure how. Falling the height he had without anything…Sam was sure that’d even kill Steve. 

Then again, the idiot did make it a habit to jump out of planes without a chute per Natasha, so who knew? 

“Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ’43 by HYDRA. Zola experimented on the POWs, trying to recreate the super solider serum. A lot of them died, but Bucky didn’t. He was…a success I think. Whatever Zola did to him, gave him…that’s how Bucky survived. They must have found him.”

“Their own super solider,” Natasha said flatly. She glanced at Steve. She didn’t actually sigh, but Sam saw the sigh in her eyes as she assured, “None of this is your fault, Steve. There was nothing you could have done and you couldn’t have known.”

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

Sam was about to say something about having Loki, but noticed the blood streaming out of Natasha’s shoulder.

“Hey! We need a doctor here! We don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

As if reacting to his words, one of the helmeted guards in the back with them pulled out an electric rod and neutralized every other guard. Sam startled further when the guard removed his, well her, helmet. He glanced at Steve, who was still doing his thousand yard stare, then at Natasha who relaxed a fraction at the sight of the woman.

“That thing was squeezing my brain,” she complained, then looked at Sam. “Who the hell is this guy?”

The van stopped and the goons in the front got out. The woman froze, along with Natasha. 

“Steve’s new recruit,” Natasha ground out. “He’s good.” 

“Three holes, start digging,” ordered a voice outside.

“Fine,” the new woman said, pulling out another object from her vest and burning a neat hole in the side. She looked at Sam “You, help Romanov. You, pull yourself together.”

The woman grabbed Steve and pushed him out of the van through the hole. Sam ripped part of his shirt and used it to put pressure on Natasha’s wound as he helped her out of the van through the hole. He followed the unnamed woman and Steve into another unmarked black van. The woman pushed Steve into the back and hopped into the driver’s seat. Sam and Natasha got into the back with Steve. 

“You got anything I can use to clean this?” Sam asked as the woman began to drive.

“Top left.”

On a shelf, Sam found a first aid kit and yanked it down. He went about tending to the GSW as best he could with what he had. It felt familiar and an ache formed in his chest that he ignored as he worked. 

“Where are we going?” Sam asked as Steve continued to channel a vegetable.

“Somewhere safe,” the woman replied. “Now, who the hell are you?”

“Sam Wilson,” he replied.

“Former Air Force officer,” Natasha gritted out. “Pararescue. Steve found him in the park.”

“Of course. What’s wrong with Steve?”

“He didn’t know me,” Steve muttered.

“Oh, his best friend came back from the dead and is actually a brainwashed minion of HYDRA,” Sam snarked as he pressed the gauze pad into Natasha shoulder. She winced. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ll do that.”

Sam let her take over so she wouldn’t knife his eyes out or something and sat down next to Steve. 

“Bucky Barnes works for HYDRA?” Hill faintly asked. “Didn’t he die?”

“Evidently not,” Sam replied. “Didn’t know who Steve was and now he’s having issues.” 

“Hill, where are we going?”

Ah, woman who could push Steve around was named Hill. 

“One of Fury’s hidey holes. There’s a doctor there,” Hill said. 

Natasha stared holes into Hill’s head for a long time, the cogs in her head rolling. Whatever she was thinking, it wasn’t happy thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Hill said out of nowhere. 

Natasha looked angry. “I can’t believe it. He was dead.”

“Nope.”

Natasha pressed her lips together and said nothing until they arrived at the hidey hole. 

“I am not being treated until I see him.”

“Fine. Let’s go. You get Steve this time.”

“What?”

Hill toted Natasha off. Sam sighed as they were greeted by who he assumed was the doctor. He turned to Steve. He snapped his fingers in front of him. 

“So, Fury’s alive. Whoever that is,” Sam said.

Steve stared at him. “No one really dies anymore. Loki, Jim, Fury…that girl Jim likes. Evidently Bucky.”

“No. I guess from your point of view, they don’t.”

“Loki died six months ago,” Steve offered, getting out of the van. He stared straight ahead blankly. “So did Jim evidently. And Loki said that girl Jim likes…Skye I think her name is. She died too. But she’s not dead.” Steve gave a chocked laugh and said, “They formed a club.”

“Well, clearly Fury…did whatever they did. He can join up now. You can too, as everyone thought you’d die too.”

“Fury brought them back to life,” Steve whispered. “But Jim blew it up. Loki didn’t tell me, but it was a drug. I found the file. Jim blew up where they were making it.” 

“He had a paper file?” Sam asked, finding that hard to believe. 

“No. I had Stark give me a crash course in computers,” Steve said, walking towards the entrance where Hill, the doctor, and Natasha had vanished. “And I know Loki and how he thinks, so I found the file.”

“So, you lot are playing God?”

“Yes,” Steve said flatly. “I don’t like it, even if it assured…Loki’s here still.” 

Not knowing what to make of this information, Sam silently followed Steve into the building. They walked through some dark halls till they were led into a hospital like room, where there was a dark man propped up on a hospital bed. Next to him, Natasha was getting treated for her GSW. She looked pissed. 

“You were dead. I saw you die.”

“I didn’t die. Just a lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, and one hell of a headache.”

“You forgot the collapsed lung,” the doctor added.

“Oh, yeah, can’t forget the collapsed lung. Otherwise, I’m good.”

“They cut you open and your heart stopped,” Natasha flatly ground out, a tinge of anger to her voice. 

“Did you use it?” Steve asked, sounding dangerous. 

Fury glanced at Steve with his one good eye. He then rolled it. “No. Coulson’s little team made sure no one can use that again. Coulson and Nicholls blew up the facility with all the drug except what they needed for Skye. Pretty sure you know that, though.” 

Steve folded his arms across his chest. “Then how did you play God? Did you have some hidden elsewhere?”

“Nope and didn’t play God. Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

Steve, if possible, folded his arms across his chest tighter and looked more stoically furious. At Fury. Ha.  

“I injected it myself when they were rushing me to the ER,” Fury said. “I always carry some on me.”

“Scared the crap out of me,” the doctor muttered.

“Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?” Steve demanded.

“Any attempt on the director’s life had to look successful,” Hill proclaimed. 

“Can’t kill you if you’re already dead,” Fury quipped. “Besides, I wasn’t sure who to trust. Where’s Loki?”

“The HUB,” Hill answered. “I sent him there when he found me. Figured we won’t have to worry about HYDRA taking the HUB that way.” 

“Well, thank god.”

* * *

_The mind has already forgotten what the body still misses / Somewhere between the sticky floor and the cracks in the ceiling / Cuddling my semi-automatic_

_-Regina Spektor, “Uh-Merica”_

* * *

_Sir, he’s unstable. Erratic._

_Sergeant Barnes._

_Bucky, no!_

_Misson report!_

_The procedure has already started._

_You are to be the new face of HYDRA._

_Till the end of the line, pal._

_Put him on ice._

_Mission report._

_I thought you were dead._

_I thought you were smaller._

_Mission reprot!_

_How can I? Taken all the stupid with you._

“Mission report, NOW!”

His eyes focused, coming out of the flashbacks that made no sense to him. He stared at the blond man looming above him. This was the leader, the man in charge. Pierce. 

He blinked a few times. His face stung. 

“The man on the bridge…” he trailed off, remembering the expression of the man’s face. “Who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment,” Pierce replied, sitting down in front of him.

Where was he? What was he sitting in?

“I knew him,” he reiterated. 

_(Yes, you did. Please remember. Please. It’s there, I know it’s there. You’re almost there. You’re actually speaking English!)_

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped this century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning, we’re gonna give it a push. But if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine, and HYDRA can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

_(Oh, fu—)_

Please, shut up.

“But, I knew him,” he repeated.

Pierce let out a heavy breath through his nose and stood up.

“Prep him,” he said unfeelingly. 

“He’s been out of cryo-freeze for too long.” 

“Then wipe him and start over.”

_(NO! NO! We’re so close to becoming one!)_

You do realize that sounds really dirty, don’t you?

_(SHUT UP!)_

Oh, now you’re telling me to shut up.

The Asset was strapped to the chair he was sitting within.

No. No. He was not going to let this happen to himself again. He actually agreed with the voice in his head. He bit down hard on the piece of rubber they placed in his mouth, allowed himself to scream in pain, but he clutched the memories that had surfaced, the image of the man on the bridge, and the name the man had given him: Bucky.

* * *

_He’s a real live wire / He’s the best of his kind / Wait till you see those eyes / He dresses like this different scene_

_-Corinne Bailey Rae, “Are You Here”_

* * *

Sam followed Steve outside after he stormed off upon stating his plan for taking out HYDRA and killing SHILED. Steve was resting his elbows on the railing overlooking the dammed lake below. He was thousand-yard staring again.

“You know he’s gonna be there, right?” Sam quietly asked, standing next to him. 

“I know.”

“Look, whoever he used to be, the guy he is now, I don’t think he’s the kind you save. He’s the kind you stop.”

Steve humorously laughed, righting himself. “Same thing was said about Loki. But, he was saved by someone who knew him inside and out. I know Bucky inside and out. And…I couldn’t stop him.”

“Well, he might not give you a choice,” Sam pointed out. “He doesn’t know you. I’m guessing, Loki at least knew the person who pulled him back from the abyss.”

Steve pushed himself away from the railing, giving Sam a humorless smile. “He didn’t actually. Just met her. And you’re right. Bucky doesn’t know me, but he will. Gear up.” 

Steve walked passed him, heading back into the building. Sam turned and eyed Steve in his khaki pants and plain blue cloth coat.

“You gonna wear that?” 

“No,” Steve said, turning and giving Sam a real smile. One that told him they were going to be doing some breaking and entering again. “When you gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform.”

Sam threw his head back. “Oh, no. You cannot be serious! It’s the Smithsonian! It’s a historical artifact!”

Steve grinned and turned. Sam shook his head and followed. That man was downright bonkers. 

* * *

_I still hear them talk, telling jokes in my head / Here we are before dawn, cold and black, death and scorn_

_-Motorhead, “In Another Time”_

* * *

It was broken. 

Never before had the Asset failed a mission, yet it had done that. It had failed. 

“One more shot,” Pierce said, giving it a stern look. “Today is a very important day, and we cannot have Captain America messing it up. You will complete this mission, you will kill Captain America. Confrim.”

“Confirm.”

_(NO! DO NOT CONFIRM! We cannot kill CAPTAIN AMERICA!)_

Pierce stared long and hard at the Asset. The Asset glanced at the leader of HYDRA before looking away and staring passively into the distance as it’d been trained. 

“What is your mission?”

“Kill Captain America. Prevent him from stopping HYDRA from bringing freedom to all.”

“Do you know him?”

“No.”

_(Yes, yes you do, you moron.)_

“Good. Prep it for its mission.”

* * *

_I can’t believe I’m here / Now, seems so hard to recall / Did it happen that way, did it happen at all / Here we are, win or lose, good and bad_

_-Motorhead, “In Another Time”_

* * *

It was slightly awe inspiring to be part of their little rag-tag team for freedom. Then again, he’d always kind of wished he’d been a Howling Commando.

Now, he kinda was. 

“Attention agents of SHEILD. This is Steve Rogers. You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days, some of you were ordered to hunt me down,” Steve said into the microphone Hill assured him was hooked up to the speakers in the entire building. “But, I think it’s time you know the truth. SHEILD is not what we thought it was, it’s been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Price is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don’t know how many more, but I know they are in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want: absolute control. They shot Nick Fury and it won’t end there. If you launch those hellicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them. I know I am asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high, it always has been, and it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And if I’m the only one, then so be it. But, I’m willing I’m not.”

Steve righted himself and pushed his shoulders back. 

“Did you write that down first, or was it off the top of your head?” Sam joked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Steve gave him a look. “Hill, you okay in here?”

She stared at him like he was a moron, but nodded.

“Let’s go.” 

Sam nodded at Hill and followed Steve out of the control room. They headed for the roof. As they exited, Sam heard gun fire in the distance.

“So, how do we tell the bad guys from the good guys?”

“If they’re shooting at you, they’re bad.”

“Got it,” Sam said, taking off into the air. Instantly, people began to shoot at him. Luckily, he was one talented guy, so he avoided getting shot at. “Hey, Cap, I found some of those bad guys you were talking about.”

“You okay?” came Steve’s voice over the coms. 

“Not dead yet,” Sam joked. 

Sam headed for his assigned hellicarrier. While he thought it was a little silly, all he had to do was replace a computer chip and it’d render the hellicarrier harmless. Well, not harmless, but it wouldn’t hook itself into the evil satellite system and do whatever Zola the Mad Scientist wanted it to do to kill those opposed to HYDRA. 

Which was like everyone of value in the world. 

Instead, they’d all shoot one another down. Bye-bye hellicarriers. 

“Falcon, status?” Hill’s voice asked in his ear.

He liked his codename. It wasn’t creative, but then again neither was Captain America. But, hell yeah, he had a codename!

“Engaging,” he reported, flying through the landing bay of his assigned hellicarrier and taking out a few HYDRA jets chasing him with his landing. “Alright, Cap, I’m in.” 

Sam, of course, spoke too soon, as some stupid jet began shooting at him. 

“Shit,” he muttered, taking off again to avoid getting hit by bullets. 

“Eight minutes, Cap,” Hill said.

“Got it,” Steve grunted, sounding like he was fighting off the world. 

Sam took off and flew around to enter a different way to get to the Heart of the Hellicarrier. Eight minutes was plenty of time for him to do his one thing. He wasn’t sure how Steve was going to do two of them in eight minutes. 

However, before Sam even managed to land on his hellicarrier, Steve said, “Alpha locked.”

“Damn son,” Sam cursed, turning to avoid another round of bullets. 

“Falcon, where are you?”

“I had to take a detour,” Sam complained as a missile was fired. 

It headed right at him.

“DAMN!”

He turned and headed towards the Hellicarrier, the missile hot on his heels. At the last moment he cut sharply upwards and back. 

“Score,” he said over the noise of exploding missile. 

It’d made a nice huge hole for him to enter easily. He flew in and landed with, “I’m in!”

Folding his wings, he ran towards the Heart of the Hellicarrier and locked the chip in place. 

“Bravo locked,” he reported to Hill. 

“Two down, one to go.” 

Sam turned and headed back to the hole and looked out, wondering if he ought to go now to get Steve. Better leave now, knowing the idiot would leap off the hellicarrier without alerting him he needed a ride. 

“Charlie Carrier’s forty-five degrees off the port bow,” Hill reported. “Six minutes.” 

“Hey, Sam, I’m gonna need a ride,” Steve shouted.

“Roger! Let me know when you’re ready.”

There was a moment of silence before Sam spotted a little red and blue figure plummeting towards the earth. 

“I just did!”

Aw, shit. Part of Sam had been hoping Natasha had been lying about the jumping without a chute. 

* * *

_I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones / Enough to make my systems blow / Welcome to the new age_

_-Imagine Dragons, “Radioactive”_

* * *

The Asset was on Hellicarrier C and it was going to finish the mission. It would not let down HYDRA. 

_(You are a he, not an it.)_

It was going to complete the mission and assure freedom.

_(Christ.)_

The Mission landed on Hellicarrier C along with a man in a flying contraption. The Asset popped up and pushed the Mission over the edge. 

_(It’s not going to be that easy to get rid of that punk.)_

“STEVE!” the winged man shouted, jumping to go after the Mission. 

The Asset grabbed the wings on the contraption the man wore and threw him away. As the winged man tumbled backwards, he shot at the Asset with two handguns he produced from somewhere. The bullets bounced off the Asset’s left arm and armor. Glancing at the winged man, it removed a heavy duty knife from his belt and approached the man. He turned to take off again, but the Asset grabbed him by his wings and used the knife to rip one of the wings off of the man’s contraption. Upon completing this task, he— it kicked the man overboard. After confirming Winged Man was out of the way, the Asset peered over the edge to see the Mission hanging onto the side by his finger tips. 

_(Told you so.)_

Narrowing its eyes, it turned and headed down from the deck to where it knew the Mission would go. It would complete its mission there.

_(Good old show down, I approve.)_

Shut up. 

“Hey.”

The Asset whirled around to find an orange person behind him. He stared at the person coldly.

_(I think we know her. Can’t remember if that’s a good thing or bad thing.)_

Shut up. 

“Not a good time? When is it a good time, though? For you, hardly ever. What are you doing?”

“The Mission.”

“The Mission,” the orange person repeated, mocking him by using his intonation and taking a similar stance to his own. Its own. It was an it. “Is Steve your mission? That would be…some sort of word I used to know. Ironic? No. That’s not right. This isn’t rain on the wedding day kind of thing.”

“I must complete the Mission.”

“You’re speaking Russian again, you know that? I hate when you speak Russian. It’s just weird. Speaka de English!”

The Asset pulled his gun and shot. 

The bullets bounced off some sort of person shield. It scowled deeply.

_(What? Why are you unhappy? That’s really keen.)_

Deny. 

“You just shot me!” the orange person screeched. “AGAIN!” 

“Move,” it ordered, pushing the orange person as hard as he could. The orange person went flying sideways, smacked her head, and landed in a heap. 

The Asset continued on. 

( _You shouldn’t treat a lady like that. You know better.)_

Shut up.

“Why did you do that?”

The Asset stopped. The orange person was in front of him. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Fine. Go forth and mission! But I’m coming with you.”

The Asset brushed passed the orange person and continued downward. He landed with a thump before the control hub where the Mission was heading. He—It slowly stood. 

“Look! It’s Captain America!” the orange person shouted from above, hanging upside down so the long, orange hair streamed all over the place, flowing in the wind. 

“Jess?”

The Mission knew the orange person.

“Who?” the orange person asked, bugging her odd eyes out a little. 

Or not.

“You’re orange again,” the Mission said, taking a few steps down the gang plank towards the orange person and the Asset. 

“Am I not always orange? God, I thought I was just on fire all the time!”

The orange person was on fire, weird orange/green fire.

The Mission looked…upset and amazed. And lowered his shield.

( _Idiot.)_

Confirm. 

“This is where you went. When we couldn’t find you,” the Mission said, now standing in front of the Asset and under the on-fire orange person.

“I had to save Bucky for Steve,” the orange person replied. “That makes sense. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know,” the Mission echoed, a frown etching the exposed part of his face.

“No. Didn’t know it was cannon that the Winter Solider was Bucky. And I’m a time traveling wizard now. It’s so last year, though. But, you’re Captain America.”

“I’m Steve.”

“No. You’re Captain America.”

“I’m Steve. You’re Jess.”

“Who’s Jess?” 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the Asset added, oddly hoping to join in the conversation. 

“Who are you?” the orange person asked, looking down at the Asset. 

The Mission pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why am I upside down? Wasn’t I doing something important?”

The Mission looked at the Asset, a helpless look. 

This was it.

_(I wish I could close my eyes. This is gonna hurt.)_

“People are gonna die, Buck. I can’t let that happen.”

The Asset stared coldly at the Mission.

“Please don’t make me do this,” the Mission pleaded.

“Hey! I found Steve!” the orange person shouted. “Steve is Captain America! I forgot!” 

When the Mission glanced upwards at the orange person, the Asset struck, getting off several shots and landing one before the Mission flipped the shield up to block the bullets. 

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” the orange person chanted as the Asset fought with the Mission. 

Between rounds of fighting, the Mission went about with his own mission— disabling whatever it was that the Asset was meant to protect. After removing a chip, the Asset realized what he was going to do: put in one of his own chips.

That could not happen.

The Asset grabbed the Mission, flipped them both over the railing and away from the hub. The computer chip the Mission had been holding clattered to the ground. 

“CHIP! CHIP! CHIP!”

The Asset glared up at the orange person, but continued to fight the Mission. He stabbed the man deep into the shoulder, but even that didn’t keep the man down long, but it prevented him from being near the computer chip. 

“Drop it! Drop it!” the Mission begged, scrambling to his feet and gritting his teeth in pain. 

The Asset did not drop the chip and the Mission launched himself at the Asset, grabbing him by the neck and dangling him above the floor. 

“Wow,” the orange person breathed from above. “Mean Steve is scary.” 

The Mission flipped the Asset and got him into a hold that was going to dislocate his right arm. The Asset tried to break free, but the Mission was stronger than the average person. The right arm dislocated. Once the Mission completed that, he flipped them again and held the Asset by the throat, cutting off the air supply. 

The Asset battled, but it started to go dark. 

He failed his Mission. Again.

He struggled, but the black dots grew and suddenly…

He would not fail his mission. 

He fought his way back from the darkness. The Mission was climbing back up toward the computer terminal, so the Asset shot.

Again and again, but the Mission continued to climb. 

_(He’s a stubborn idiot.)_

Confirm.

 _(Please stop shooting him_.)

Deny.

The Asset shot again, getting the Mission in the gut. It must have hindered the man, as he collapsed, panting hard. He still had the chip, but his progress had ceased.

_(Oh, god. Steve. Get up and finish whatever you were doing.)_

The Mission, because he was a stubborn stupid-head, got up, put the chip in and shouted something to someone and the whole place exploded.

What the hell. 

Before the Asset had a chance to move, part of the hellicarrier fell on him, pinning him to the ground and causing him to hit his head against the glass below him.

His head rang.

It got cold.

And dark.

_I’m only human_

_I’m only human_

_Just a little human’_

He opened his eyes.

The Asset—no. He opened his eyes. He was trapped under a heavy piece of metal and was unable to move, partly because his right arm was un-operational and the metal arm was…metal arm? Why were his arms un-operational? 

Oh, the Mission dislocated his right one and the metal one (metal?) was trapped.

The Misson? Who? Wait. 

The Mission was Steve? No. That…what was going on? 

He was scared. When was the last time he felt scared? He didn’t like it. At all. 

An orange person was hovering over him. He knew her, didn’t he? Those eyes were familiar, but why? 

What was going on? Where was he?

“Hi,” she said. “I’m going to have to go elsewhere. Where, I don’t know. But, you gotta remember that _I’m only human, just a little human.”_

The last part was like record.

Wait, what was a record? 

“Laters. Kiss kiss.”

The orange woman vanished into thin air just as the Mission appeared, looking over the edge of the platform. He leapt down and landed loudly nearby, rolling funnily, then stumbling towards the Asset. 

No. Not the Asset. He was a he and not an asset. 

What was he? Besides a he. He knew that. He was a he. But, who? Not what. Who was he? 

He had a mission. That was clear. The Mission was the man in red, white, and blue.

What was the mission, though? 

The Mission stumbled and fell as another explosion rocked the…ship they were on. But, he got back up and removed the rubble on top of him easily. He looked pleadingly as he looked at…him.

The former asset was in need of a name. He had to have a name, right? People had names. Hims had names. 

He did not understand. What was going on? Why did nothing make sense? Nothing made sense. He wanted things to makes sense. They’d made sense before.

What made sense, he wasn’t sure, but it’d made sense.

Missions made sense and he’d had one. It was before him, trying to reason with him. Plead with him. 

“You know me, please remember,” the Mission pleaded. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes. I’m Steve Rogers. I’m your friend.” 

“NO!” he roared. “YOU’RE MY MISSION!” 

He couldn’t know this man. He just could not be who this man thought he was. He was frightened, nothing made sense, and he was not this person. He was not…a friend. He lashed out at the Mission, punching the man in the face with the metal arm. The man flew backwards, landing in a heap on the floor. He did not get up.

“Bucky, you’ve known me your whole life.”

He leapt at the man and punched him in the face again. The Mission took it, then rolled back and rested on his knees. 

“SHUT UP! I AM NOT BUCKY!” he roared.

He was not Bucky. It frightened him, saddened him, scared him, but he knew he was not this Bucky person. 

The Mission took off his mask and threw his shield overboard. 

What the hell was he doing?

“I’m not gonna fight you,” the Mission said, looking dejected. “You’re my friend. You are James Buchanan Barnes and I am your friend.”

“You’re my mission!” he roared, punching the man square on his big stupid nose. He mercilessly punched him a few more times in the face shouting, “You’re my mission! You’re my mission!”

Because that was clear, for some reason. This man was his mission. 

Why did this idiot not understand that? He had missions and whoever it was ended up dead. That was how it worked. Had worked. Would no longer work. It was wrong.

Confused. He was confused.

Confirm. 

“Then finish it,” the Mission said, his stupid face all bloody and eyes beginning to swell shut.

He hesitated. He stared at the man, his eyes going wide. This was familiar, known. This face being a bloody mess. Alley. Damp. Garbage. Tiny man with bloody face taking on punks twice his size. 

The man below him tried hard to open his eyes and managed. He looked right at him.

He had very blue eyes.

“‘Cause I’m with you till the end of the line,” he gritted out. 

Images flash before his eyes. 

A small blonde man, his clothes too big. 

A city scape. 

Brown. Lots of brown and cream.

Hats. 

Huge cars. 

Roller coster. 

Cotton candy. 

Pink.  

A small blond man watching him dance. 

Dancing. 

Music. 

_Just a little human, just a little human._

Red. Blood. 

The small blonde man not being so small.

Falling, looking at the blonde man, whose face was contorted in fear. 

The blonde man was Captain America. He wore a costume. Steve Rogers was Captain America. 

Anguish. 

Cold. Cold. Cold.

He was so cold.

The small blond man shouldn’t be cold. He got sick. 

The bottom of the hellicarrier gave out, causing the man in red, white, and blue to fall down to the river. He managed to hang onto something stable with the metal arm and watched the man fall. 

Steve.

The man was Steve. He’d told him that.

Steve was the small blond man. 

Steve was his friend. 

 _I’m with you till the end of the line_.

He said that to the small blonde man. Steve was short. Brittle. 

Steve was also drowning right now. 

Shit.

He let go and followed Steve into the river. He had to save Steve. Steve was all that was good in the world, all that was right. Steve, who fought bullies, who took on people twice his size, and then took on HYDRA with only six people and a dumb, metal shield. 

Steve.

They made him forget Steve. 

They made him forget everything except what they wanted him to know. 

They made him forget _Steve_.

He hit the water and fought through the muck to find the figured dressed in gaudy red, white, and blue. He saw a flash of too bright blue and grabbed. He got a fistful of arm. It hurt like hell, but he hauled the body (it was dead weight and man did he weighed a lot, which was good. Meant he was eating) to him and wrapped the metal arm around his huge, solid chest. Using his legs (as his arm was not working right and hurt like hell, and the metal one had to hold onto a stupid punk), he kicked to the surface and dragged the dead weight of Steve over to the shore. Upon getting him up into the sand, he dropped Steve and stared.

He had to do something, but what?  

He has spent the past seventy years mindlessly working for the very thing he’d been fighting against, murdering people who might not actually have been evil, or bad, or anything other than against HYDRA. 

He was the fist of HYDRA.

He’d let them make him into their Asset. 

He’d not been strong enough to resist the torture, the brainwashing, all of it. 

He’d let them murder Bucky Barnes. 

Steve wanted Bucky and he would never be Bucky. 

He watched the chest rise and fall, somehow knowing it wasn’t always so easy for that same chest to rise and fall. 

There were sirens and they were getting closer. Taking one last look at Steve, he stumbled away. Someone would find Captain America and take him to the hospital. No one was going to patch him up, who ever he was now. He wasn’t the Asset. He wasn’t the Winter Solider. He wasn’t Bucky.

He was no one. 

* * *

_You’re my buddy, my pal, my friend / It will be that way until the end / And wherever you go, I want you to know /  You’re my buddy, my pal, my friend_

_-Willie Nelson, “I’ve Loved You All Over the World”_

* * *

Sam pushed himself off the tree as Natasha walked away from Steve, who was staring at the file folder in his hands, looking through it with a combination greedy/heart-broken expression. 

“You’re going after him?” Sam asked, eyeing the file folder. He did not want to know what was in there. Steve, though, would read it and go around looking like someone had shot his dog and likely punch a hole in the wall. Hopefully the idiot knew how to patch drywall, as Sam was not paying for that. 

Steve looked up and met Sam’s gaze. “You don’t have to come with me.”

Sam shook his head. He knew he had to stick with this guy. The man who the whole country had adored and loved, yet now didn’t know what to think about him due to the fact the whole world now knew of his relationship with Loki, the alien being who brought other aliens to rain destruction on Malibu. Sam knew Loki was going to split, vanish off into the shadows as Barnes had done, to deal with his anger issues that were festering closer to the surface now that the world knew him and were out for his skin. 

It’d break the big lug’s heart and then no one would watch his left flank. The guy never watched his left.

Likely because that was where Bucky was supposed to be. And when there was no Bucky, there was a Loki.

Now, there’d be no one.

Sam could fill that spot. Sam would be the friend, the confidant, the one who scooped the big guy off the floor once his boyfriend ran off to battle his own demons and hide from the world that wanted to lock him up and throw away the key. 

And Sam really was all in. There was something about Steve Rogers that made you like him, made you do insane things for him. Sam didn’t really want to analyze why, but he was ready.

“I know. When do we start?”

* * *

_You don’t have long / I am on to you / The time, it has come to destroy your supremacy_

_-Muse, “Supremacy”_

 


	4. Proud Past, Bright Future

**Disclaimer: I do now own any of the Marvel characters. Nor do I own _Captain America: Winter Solider_ , screenplay by Christopher Marcus and Stephan McFeely nor do I own _Agents of Shield_. If you know it, I do not own it.**

**“Trust”  written by Durst, William Frederick / Dimant, Leor / Borland, Wesley Louden / Otto, John Everett / Rivers, Samuel Robert. “Let It Go” written by Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez, “Time is Running Out” written by Muse**

* * *

**_Epilogue_ **

* * *

_I’m growing tired of fighting / I’ve been drained and I can’t hide it / But, I have strength for you, you’re all that’s real anymore_

_-Muse, “Aftermath”_

* * *

SHEILD was HYDRA. HYDRA was SHIELD. There were hidden HYDRA agents within SHIELD. SHEILD agents within HYDRA. Oh, and Captain America had aired all SHIELD/HYDRA’s dirty secrets, so now SHEILD was dead. 

HYDRA was not dead, because it was one of those things that just would not die.

And just after she’d been accepted to the club.

“I have a strange feeling.”

Skye looked up and gave Loki a dark look. “Seriously? That’s what you’re seriously going to say. Right now? You’ve got a strange _feeling_?”

“Yes, I believe I did say that and it was what I meant to say,” Loki smoothly replied, not removing his eyes from Ward, who was still recovering from finding out his mentor and SO had been with HYDRA all along. “James?”

Jim, who had also been watching the Ward as if he was afraid the guy was going to go bat crazy at any moment and off them all, looked sharply at Loki. 

“Yes?”

“I believe I must go,” Loki said, nodding his head towards the computer screens that were showing the destruction of the hellicarriers in DC at the hands of Captain America, who was also MIA. 

Skye narrowed her eyes, glaring at the back of Loki’s head. 

“That’s not what you’ve got the strange feeling about,” Skye insisted, blocking Loki’s exit path. “You meant something else completely.”

Loki cocked his head to the side, studying Skye with his strange green eyes. He looked once more at where Ward was brooding. He nodded once at Jim before looking back at Skye. “There are still heads within SHEILD.”

Skye took a moment to digest this information. “Cut one off…”

“And eight more appear,” Loki replied, making Jazz Hands for some reason. “Unfortunately for us, HYDRA did not actually keep a list of its loyal members, so there will likely still be HYDRA operatives hidden within the ranks of what remains of SHIELD.”

“SHEILD is destroyed,” Victoria Hand stated flatly coming up from behind, her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face before Skye could say, “DUH.”

“It’ll rise from the ashes,” Loki casually replied, turning to her and making a rising motion with his hands. “Just as HYDRA will do.” 

“All our information has been dumped on the Internet. It’s all out there for the world to read, HYDRA’s as well,” Hand stated. She got a very vindictive look and added, “The world knows who you are, Loki.” 

“They know you as well.”

“I didn’t try to rule the world as king, destroy most of the coast near Malibu in the process, and brainwash myself minions.”

“Ah, but you’ve done things you are not proud of,” Loki taunted, then swept out of the room, leaving a furious Hand behind. She seethed for a few moments before rounding on Coulson. They began to plan their next move and Skye turned to Jim, to find him studying Ward as if he was about to explode. 

“Jim?”

Jim didn’t respond as he watched Ward vehemently agree he was going to go to the Fridge with Hand to put his former SO away for life. And make sure the Fridge didn’t fall into HYDRA’s hands. 

“If you say ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark’ I am going to punch you,” Skye said as Hand and Ward walked out of the control room, leaving Coulson behind to watch the destruction of SHEILD’s public hub and the Helicarriers on various news channels broadcasting around the room. 

Jim’s eyes trailed from Skye to the doorway where Ward and Hand had vanished. 

“‘You’re the kind of guy with two faces, just another life that’s wasted.’”

“Not a guy,” Skye pointed out, motioning to herself with exaggerated hand motions. 

Jim turned back to her, a sad smile on his beautiful face. 

“Be careful who you trust.”

“‘I don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me, never gonna trust anybody and that’s the way it’s gonna be,’” Coulson rapped from behind Skye, making her jump. He wore a strange expression on his face while he studied Jim. “‘When you’re selfish, your wealth is all you crave from the cradle to the grave.’”

“‘Maybe Freddy Krueger will step into your dream and burn you like a demon.’”

“Okay, what the hell are you two quoting?” Skye demanded.

“Limp Bizkit,” said a voice from the doorway. Skye whirled around to find Tripp leaning against the doorframe with a bemused expression on his face. “Not the sort of people I’d see as Limp Bizkit fans, either of you.”

“Who?” Skye asked. “Is that some band? Their lyrics suck.”

“Oh god, I’m old,” Tripp moaned, slapping his hands over his face. 

“You’re saying not to trust Ward,” Skye flatly surmised, ignoring the fact that both Coulson and Jim seemed to listen to the same…music. Which made no sense, as Coulson was old, but not ancient, and Jim was from 1914, thus ancient. 

“I’m saying, this is far from over and Agent Ward was a little too…”

“Upset,” Coulson filled in, looking displeased. “He’s a member of my team.”

Jim gazed at Coulson sadly. 

“Agent May is also part of your team,” Jim pointed out. “And you were all quick to believe she’d betrayed you when all she was doing was making sure I wasn’t having any adverse effects to the treatment I received. Agent Coulson, you know Director Fury best. It is something he would do and she was simply following orders.”

Coulson looked annoyed but didn’t dispute the facts when presented in that manner. Skye felt kind of stupid suddenly. She’d really thought May was the bad guy, felt really betrayed and outraged. Now…kinda dumb. 

“It makes sense that HYDRA put one of their own on your team,” Jim went on quietly. “The Clairvoyant was most interested in how I returned from the dead.”

“He was also interested in Skye,” Coulson reminded him. 

Jim glanced at Skye before looking back at Coulson. “True, but only after we used the drug on her.”

Coulson frowned. “Why Ward? Is it simply because of what Loki said before he left?”

“It is what Mr Laufey-Odinson did not say, but the look in his eye the moment Garrett was exposed to Agent Ward. Mr Laufey-Odinson did not allow Agent Ward out of his sight until he departed.” 

“Why not me?” Tripp asked. “I was on Garrett’s team. And I was also upset when he was exposed.”

Jim turn his baby blues to Tripp and gave him a smile. (Oh, god, when would Smile Power return?) “You’d never join HYDRA. Your grandfather fought against it.”

“So? Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t appeal to me.”

“It would not.”

“And it would appeal to Ward?”

“A lot of people come from troubled backgrounds,” Coulson quickly said, knowing where Jim was heading in his logic. 

Jim tugged on his ear, frowning. “Yes, I know. But…”

“He’s violent,” May said, appearing out of nowhere. “He revels violence and before joining this team, he worked alone. Always alone.”

Coulson frowned deeply, eyeing May. 

“He’s going to kill Hand and her team,” May stated flatly. “If he is indeed HYDRA, he will take her out and HYDRA will have access to the Fridge.”

Coulson cursed darkly. 

“We’re in no condition to stop him,” Fitz said, flapping his arms helplessly.

“The Bus needs repairs,” Simmons added from behind Fitz, looking horrified. 

“The government will not allow us to remain here,” Jim said, pulling his phone out and scrolling. A frown etched his face. “They are on their way.”

“So quickly?” Coulson darkly mused, looking as if he wanted to shoot something.

“No, they can’t be. They first need to clean up Captain America’s mess and find Captain America,” Fitz said, tapping his StarkPad. 

“They’re multi-tasking,” Jim muttered, eyes still locked to the screen of his phone, which he suddenly was able to use with skill. He was texting. Properly. 

What the hell?  

“He’s still lost?” Tripp asked, looking over Jim’s shoulder. “Stark’s not found him?”

“No. He’s not wearing a Stark approved suit, evidently.”

“Why did he—”

“What?” Skye asked, the minute Tripp’s eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped almost all the way to Jim’s shoulder. 

“Agent Nicholls?” Coulson said, a dangerous edge to his voice. “What did Stark send you?”

Jim looked up slowly, his face pale and shocked. He bit his lip, glanced at the larger screens, then at Fitz, who scurried over, pulling cords out of his pockets as he went. He took the phone in Jim’s hand and stopped.

“What the bloody hell is this thing?” 

Jim chuckled darkly. “Loki’s version of an iPhone.”

“OMG! Loki gave you an iPhone?” Skye screeched. 

“It’s a prettier StarkPhone,” Simmons said dreamily, taking the phone from Fitz. “What is so special about it?”

“It’s un-hackable,” Skye proclaimed, grabbing it from Simmons. It looked almost exactly like the iPhone, only it was gold and black and had iLoki carved onto the back under a strange looking symbol that had horns. “It’s got the same hardware as Loki’s actual iPhone?”

“As close as Loki was able to make it,” Jim said, watching Skye turn the phone over in her hands before it was snatched away by Fitz. “It’s almost un-hackable. Much to Mr Stark’s dismay.”

Coulson rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t have a cord for this,” Fitz said sadly.

Jim sighed. Skye took the phone from Fitz to study the screen this time instead of the actual phone and was shortly crowded by everyone except Jim and Tripp, who was still standing with his mouth open and eyes bugged out. 

“That’s…” Coulson trailed off, suddenly mirroring Tripp’s expression.

Skye had no idea what was so shocking. The image on the screen was of a man. He had long, straggly brown hair, didn’t know how to put his eyeliner on, and had the blankest eyes that were even clear from the blurry photo Stark had sent Jim. 

“Looks like Sergeant Barnes,” May flatly said, frowning and squinting at the screen. 

“It is Sergeant Barnes,” Jim proclaimed. “That is why we are unable to find Captain Rogers, as he broke into the Smithsonian and stole his original suit, which is not equipped with a homing beacon.”

“Meaning, Stark can’t find him,” Coulson muttered. 

“So, he wore the old suit in hopes of having, uh, Sergeant Barnes recognize him?” Simmons asked timidly. “Because he’s…what?”

“Brainwashed,” Skye supplied, going through the Winter Solider file Stark had sent to Jim. There wasn’t much, mostly just rumors and ghost stories. The only reason they knew “The Asset” was Barnes was because Captain America had identified him. “Brainwashed by HYDRA. Great. Awesome. Oh. My. God. They put him on ice between his killing sprees.”

“I thought the Winter Solider was just a rumor,” May flatly stated, grabbing the phone from Skye. She didn’t have it long before Coulson stole it and all but ran to the other side of the room. 

“Clearly it’s not,” Coulson muttered, scrolling through the file. “Okay. We’ve got to assume Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are alive and well and will be found. Loki won’t rest till he finds Rogers at least.”

“Or Stark,” Jim quietly added.  

“Or Stark,” Coulson agreed, clicking through screens on Jim’s phone. “Okay, Fitz. Repair our plane. May, you’re not my friend but you’re my ally. Help Fitz. Simmons, Tripp: gather supplies you think we’ll need to wage war on HYDRA and, well, the US government. Skye, Nicholls: go over all the information leaked and what Stark’s sent you. Organize it.” 

“What are you going to do?” Skye asked as various members of their team scattered to do their tasks. 

“Figure out where to go when the government shows up to take us in,” Coulson said, turning away towards the screens still showing the destruction of SHEILD for the world to see at the hands of Captain America.

* * *

_I never question who I’m talking to / Oh, so much for nothing / But nothing means so much/ I know it’s touching, but I’ve been out of touch_

_-Vertical Horizon, “Finding Me”_

* * *

He went to the Smithsonian. It’d been a few days since the…disaster on the river and life within the city had bounced back to normal levels— levels that made it possible for him to venture out and do…something. 

He knew he needed to get out of town, out of the country, away from Rogers, but currently Rogers was holed up in a hospital room and not going anywhere no matter how super solider he was, so he had some time to collect his shattered psyche and figure out who the heck he was and what to do about it.

He knew he wasn’t Bucky Barnes. He knew this as well as he knew he was a He. 

And while he knew he was not Bucky Barnes, he had seen an ad on a bus for the exhibit on Captain America and the Howling Commandos. He’d stared at the face of Captain America—wearing a big, dumb serious expression— and found his feet walking him to the Smithsonian. 

His eyes darted around, but no one paid him any attention. He knew he likely smelled, even though he’d stolen clean clothes and had attempted to wash several times in various gas station bathrooms, but he’d kill for a shower.

No, not kill. Never again.

Unless they were HYDRA. Then all bets were off, those rat bastards. 

“They should have called this _Captain America: The First Avenger_ ,” said a female voice behind him. “That’d’ve been hill-AIR-ious.”

“To you, maybe,” replied another female voice. This one was gentle and lacked the hint of Texan. It was a softer accent, still southern, but not actual Southern. Had to be Ohio. “To anyone else it wouldn’t make any sense. Lila, don’t climb up there.”

“Come here,” the Texan urged. A little girl giggled. “True, I guess technically he wasn’t the first Avenger. Pretty sure it was Clint.”

The other woman sighed deeply. 

“This is still pretty cool, right?” Texan asked.

“Boring,” the little girl proclaimed. “Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s working today. He’ll meet us here when he’s done. Why he’s meeting us here…”

“Because we’re the ones stalking it today,” Texan chirped. “You know for the First Avenger and all.”

First Avenger.

Why did that sound familiar? He had heard that somewhere, long ago.

He turned away from staring at what he had looked like all those years ago when he’d been Bucky Barnes to see two women, one with brown hair and the other with bright blonde hair with purple tips. The blonde woman was holding a child, who was wearing a pink tutu and kicking her feet while pouting. The other woman was watching a little boy, who was peering at one of the interactive screens about Captain America. 

“Fine, fine, down you go,” the blonde, the Texan, said. 

The little girl scampered over to the little boy. 

“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” the older woman muttered, watching the children.

“Because Cooper worships Captain America and jumped at the chance to come here?”

“Cooper!” the older woman began to scold and he stopped listening.

The Blonde Texan was on her own. She looked around, eyes landing on the huge picture of Bucky Barnes behind him. Then, her green eyes fell on him. 

Even from a distance he knew they were green and not normal green eyes. They were light and somehow magical. 

He knew those eyes. 

Why did he know those eyes?

“Hey,” she greeted, somehow getting in front of him without him noticing her movement. “Are you a vet?”

“Yes,” he croaked out.

Even after a few days, it still felt strange to speak English. And use his voice. But, being a vet seemed to cover his appearance and haunted expression. Once people found that out (if they didn’t assume he was homeless), they thanked him for his service (yeah, it was just great, thanks) and went on their way.

“Thank you for your service,” she said, but didn’t move away or smile at him. Instead she cocked her head to the side and scanned his face. 

He pulled the bill of his hat down further. While someone (likely that redhead) had leaked all SHIELD’s files online, there was very little on him in those files, so he wasn’t worried the girl would recognize him for being the Winter Solider. The Winter Solider was a ghost. No one took photos or kept files on a ghost. 

Or at least digital ones. He had a sinking feeling someone, likely the Russians who liked to brag (why did he know that?), kept paper files. Who knew where they’d done when the USSR collapsed (and how did he know that? He hadn’t read any history as of yet. Just spent the past few days healing and putting his arm back in the socket and trying not to howl in pain). 

“You know, you kinda look like Sebastian Stan.”

Shocked, he looked back up. “Who?”

“An actor,” she breezily replied. “Doubt anyone’s heard of him here. Do you live here or just visiting?”

“Just visiting.”

Why was he engaging in conversation? 

Oh, because he missed it. He was beginning to dread he might still like being social, which scared the crap out of him as he hated crowds. This jaunt to the measum in the first thing in the morning was pushing his limit.

“Me too. I live in Anchorage. I’m visiting a friend,” she needlessly explained. “Hope you enjoy your visit. Try to see Dorothy’s shoes. I think they’re downstairs.”

She gave him a huge smile. It was a nice smile, a great smile. Kind of made his heart race. He twitched his face muscles in what he hoped was a smile and nodded his head at her. She turned, hair flying out behind her in a familiar manner and flounced off. 

He sat down hard on a bench and stared as the group left the exhibit. He kept staring long after they were gone.

Without a doubt, he was sure he knew that girl. He had no idea how he knew her, but then he was unsure how he knew many of the things that he seemed to know. This time, though, it wasn’t just a flash, or random thought that didn’t make sense, it was a deep sense of knowing.

Like how he’d realized he’d known Steve. 

He was going to Anchorage.

Standing, he felt better now he had a direction to head. Just happened, it was away from Steve. Far away from Steve. 

* * *

_She’s a melody that I’ve tried to forget but I can’t / It still follows me when I wake in the dead of the night / And I know I can’t fight it, that song going, going round in my head_

_-Jamie Cullum, “I’m All Over It”_

* * *

“OHMYGOD!”

He vaulted, spinning 180 degrees from where he’d been walking through snow drifts to find an orange haired woman. Or, well, he assumed it was the orange woman. She was in a hole behind him that hadn’t been there before as he’d walked there moments ago and there’d been no hole. He might have gaps in his memory, but he’d noticed if he’d fallen in a hole.

“I’m down a hole! I totally melted the snow. The cold never bothered me till I melted it!”

He crept up to the edge of the hole and peered through the steam. She looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

Green eyes: magical, light, green eyes.  

“Do you wanna build a snoooooooooomaaaaaaaan?” she drawled out. When he failed to answer she shook her head and said, “Watch out! I’m gonna magic myself out!”

He stumbled backwards as she soared into the air, holding her golden spear out in front of her. The snow swirl around her as she studied it, moving the spear and making little snow drifts float around her and land meters away. 

“You know, Loki’s got ice magic. He can use it like a boss,” she proclaimed, landing. Or trying. The snow melted under her bare feet. She sighed and went back to floating above the snow. “But, I don’t have ice magic. I’m just on fire!”

And orange fire erupted across her orange skin. 

“I feel like I should totally sing ‘Let It Go’ as we’re on a snowy mountain side, but I won’t subject you to that. Plus, I can feel I don’t have the time. Two jumps into the future and I’m nearing the end. Gonna snap soon if I don’t get myself back to where I should be. Not sure how I’m gonna do that, as I’m not in control. CONTROL! Loki is gonna—something. I did something I should be ashamed of. I can’t remember. All I know is you. I have to fix you.”

“I am broken,” he agreed. 

“Yes! Wasn’t Captain America here like five-seconds ago? Were we flying? Or falling? I know there wasn’t snow. Did you find Steve? Is Steve Captain America?”

He nodded. She clapped gleefully. 

“I am not Bucky,” he told her. “I am Sebastian.” 

He surprised himself. He didn’t think of himself as anything, but Sebastian would work. The Blonde Texan, who was also the Orange Fire Woman, had told him he looked like a Sebastian. He liked it. It was a good enough name for him, and far away from Bucky. 

“Hey, that’s fine. You can live under the sea,” the orange woman said, flapping her free hand. “Your head will fix itself. Why did you run away from Steve? Steve loves you. Steve will help you. I can take you to Steve!”

He tensed up, gave her a dark look and took a few steps backwards. 

“No.”

“Oh. Yeah. Punchy, punchy, killy, killy. But, you’re not really the villain. You were just a victim of bad programming in the hands of maniacs.”

“I am not who he thinks I am.”

“Been there, done that. Or going to do it. If I’m salvageable. Okay. Where are you going?”

“Anchorage.”

“Why?”

He was not sure how to tell her he was going to find her, when she was no longer orange and on fire.

“Fine, don’t tell me. I won’t remember. I’ll take you there. Then I’m going to go back. Or forward more. What if I don’t go back? You know, what? Who cares? _Let it go, let it go! Can’t hold it back anymore!”_

 Snow went flying all over the place as the orange woman waved her arms around while spinning in the air over the snow. He backed up a few paces and watched her wearily. She was doing that weird thing where the stuff coming out of her mouth wasn’t in her own voice. 

“ _Let it go, let it go! The cold never bothered me any way!”_

The orange woman grabbed onto his metal arm and in a swirl of colors, they appeared in the mists of a city scape. There was a cold bite in the air and a quick survey told him he was likely in Anchorage. They’d appeared in an alley, luckily empty as the snow they’d been standing in had also appeared with them. 

“Oops. I’ll Harry Potter this off.”

She waved the spear, but nothing happened.

“I’m clearly not Harry Potter,” she complained. “Oh, well. Street is gonna be wet. And haters are gonna hate.” She suddenly put her hand over her head and fell to her knees. “ _Our time is running out! Our time is running out! Can’t push it underground! Can’t stop it screaming out! How did it—”_

She blinked out of existence. He waited a minute before venturing out of the alley. He was in a downtown area, the sun was bright and blinding. He took a few steps forward and noticed there were still piles of snow in the shady areas, so the pile he left behind wouldn’t be out of place. 

He walked the streets till he found what appeared to be a shopping center. He entered, used the bathroom to clean himself up, went to a department store, bought some clothes with the money he’d gotten from the various HYDRA safe houses he’d raided on his way up, went back to the bathroom, change into the new clothes after a more through washing, then found a StarkTech Store. He hated the stores. They were bright, loud, and annoying, usually crowded, but they’d have free access to internet. 

Not that he had any idea where to begin looking for the girl. He had no name. Steve had known her, yet Sebastian could not remember what he’d called her. He sat down on a bench outside the store and pretended to people watch. He’d been doing this for five point six minutes when he spotted familiar hair. He zeroed in as she walked into a near by store that smelled strongly of oranges. She exited ten point four minutes later holding a small bag and headed away from him.

He followed. 

She wandered out of the shopping center and across the street. She walked one hundred meters before she entered another store. He loitered thirty point seven seconds entering.

“I can’t believe what a traitor you are, Jess. The Body Shop? You work in an Aveda salon,” a girl was admonishing the Blonde Texan Who Lived in the Frozen Arctic Who Formerly Was an Orange Fire Wizard as a bell tinkled above his head. 

It too everything within him not to yank out a gun and shoot it. 

“What? I wanna smell like an orange,” the Blonde Texan, Jess the girl had called her, said. She headed back into the depths of what appeared to be a hair salon.

Huh.

“Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?” the girl who’d admonished Jess for wanting to smell like an orange.

“No,” he croaked out. He cleared his throat. He could use a hair cut, though he wasn’t sure how he’d handle someone coming near him with scissors. He tended to revert into Winter Solider mode when faced with sharp objects or guns. He also tended to speak Russian at these times. But, his hair was so dirty and it was beginning to annoy him— something familiar and new at the same time. 

“What are you looking for? Products? A haircut? A blowout?”

The look the girl gave him told him she believed he needed a haircut or at least whatever a blowout was. It sounded violent.  

“Haircut,” he managed to get out, in what he hoped was English. He had learned besides when he was fighting, when he got emotional he spoke in Russian. 

The girl looked at a something behind the desk she was seated at then smiled.

“Jennifer’s free in like five minutes,” the girl chirped. 

He nodded and took a seat, running his hands up and down his thighs. He stared at the leather glove he wore over his left hand and quickly hid his left hand in his the pocket of his new leather jacket.

He really liked the leather jacket. It smelled nice and familiar. 

“Chrissy,” Jess started then stopped when she spotted him. 

“What? Your two o’clock isn’t here. Oh, you wanna wash his hair for Jennifer? I’m about to go get her.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jess said. “Come on, Seb.”

“You know him?” the girl asked, pausing as she came out from behind the desk. 

“Yeah,” Jess said. “Come on. It’ll feel great, I promise.”

He got to his feet and slowly followed her back further into the salon, wondering what the heck he was doing. He was the Winter Solider, he’d killed hundreds of politicians and innocents, he’d been the fist of HYDRA, and he had no idea who he was passed he was dangerous. He should be feared, yet here he was, sitting down in a strange looking chair in a place that smelled herbal and soothing. And was softly playing really annoying music. 

“Lean back, Seb,” Jess urged, gently putting her hand on his left shoulder.

He jerked away and found himself standing. 

“Sorry,” she squeaked. “Sorry. I won’t—”

“You know.”

He must have spoken Russian, because Jess gave him a confused look. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“You know.”

Jess stared at him for a long beat before her tense posture loosened a little.

“Yeah. You don’t need to hide it from me,” she said.

He sat back down.  

“I apologize,” he said. “I…”

“Hey, it’s fine,” she assured him, moving to his right side and gently pushing him back. “You get any flashbacks, I’ll figure something else out.”

“I am fine.”

He wasn’t, but he’d do this. Nothing was going to happen. It was just Jess. She wasn’t going to hurt him. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but Jess hurting him was less likely than Steve because Jess would never have ever been a mission to the Asset. (Well, unless they’d found out about her being an orange fire thing, but clearly they hadn’t or she’d not be standing here right now.) 

“Okay. I’m Jess, by the way.”

“I figured that out, but nice to meet you.”

She smiled again and something loosened in Sebastian’s chest. The air suddenly whooshed into his lungs and straight back out. He really liked that smile. 

“I’m going to warm the water up, as I doubt you like the cold,” she babbled. 

“The cold never bothered me anyway,” he quoted, looking straight at her.

She looked a little startled. “You’ve seen _Frozen_. _”_

“No. What’s that?”

“A movie,” she said, looking a little lost at sea. “I’m going to wet your hair now. Tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

The hot water felt good on his head. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. Whatever they scented the store with helped ease the well of panic he felt at being tilted back (not that he knew why he felt panic). Jess began to babble about _Frozen_ and how many times she’d seen it when she had visited Lila and Cooper. She talked him through everything she was doing between the sentences about the children and _Frozen._ When the task of hair washing was completed, she sat him up. 

He liked hair washing. Especially with whatever she’d used. It smelled soothing and calming. 

“I’ve got a two o’clock makeup application, but they’re always late. I’ll sit with you while Jennifer cuts your hair, okay?”

He nodded.

She led him to Jennifer. Jennifer was informed of Sebastian’s veteran status. Jennifer actually brightened at the mention of his service status and began to tell him about her father who’d served in the Army. Sebastian politely listened (he knew he had to be polite to dames, they deserved it) and watched her like a hawk as she clipped his hair. He did not want anything razored, so she used the scissors. By the time he was finished (no, do not blow dry my hair), it was two thirty, and Jess’s client had finally shown. 

Sebastian used some of the stolen cash to pay for his haircut and tip Jennifer, as that seemed like something he ought to do, then wondered where to go. 

“Hey, Seb, meet me at Cafe Paris at four. It’s just next door,” Jess called. “We’ll catch up.”

“Confrim.” 

He combed the perimeter of the salon, then did a roof check for snipers (because why not). He noticed there were several places where snipers had once been placed and wondered why there would be snipers in downtown Anchorage around the salon where Jess worked. It looked as if the spots had been recently abandoned, yet used for a long time. He made a note to research HYDRA activity in the area. Maybe HYDRA had known about Jess’s status as an orange fire person?

Four pm rolled around and Sebastian went to the cafe as instructed. It was dark, cramped, and Jess was waiting right inside. She smiled brightly at him. 

“This okay?”

He scanned the restaurant and tightly nodded. They were shown to a booth. He scooted till he had a view of the door and the back of the restaurant. Jess slid in next to him and faced away from the door.  

“Who are you?” he asked as soon as the waiter left with their drink orders (water).

“Jessica Witton,” she replied. “Who are you?”

“Sebastian Stan, formerly known as the Asset, or Winter Solider, who was James Buchanan Barnes, but you know that.”

“Yeah, I do. From your reaction to me, I think I might have met you when I did time as an orange fire demon. Steve mentioned that I appeared during your fight on the hellicarrier. Don’t remember.”

“I don’t remember much of the past ninety-six years of my life,” Sebastian pointed out.

“But, you remembered Steve.”

“A little. I also remembered your eyes,” he admitted. “That’s why I am here.”

“Stupid eyes. Well, Seb, where are you staying? I’ve got a spare room if you need a place.”

He blinked. “You’d let me stay?”

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“No.”

“Then why not?”

“You do not know me.”

“I didn’t know Loki when I picked him up off the side of the road either,” she breezily said as the waiter reappeared. 

She ordered for both of them, as Sebastian hadn’t bothered to open his menu, nor did he really know what was what anyway when he did. 

“I didn’t mean to take away your choice, but you can pick of either one that shows up, okay?”

He nodded. Choices were still new.

“How do you know I won’t…revert to my old programming. I have since…since the River Disaster.”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“When you did, was there a reason?”

“Yes. I was being shot at by HYDRA agents.”

“Well, then I’m not a HYDRA agent. Also, theory is, the longer you’re out and using your brain, it’ll heal itself so the next time one of those octopus dudes shows one of its eight heads, you won’t fall victim to whatever they think they have on you.” 

“Like a word to revert me to…how I was? Not just when I am threatened?”

Jess nodded. “They’ve got that. They do it all the time. It’s likely you’ve been conditioned like that, but, you can fight it. It’s been done.”

“How do you know so much?”

“I know the right people. Or the wrong people. Steve had told me all this, actually. When I saw him before I came home,” she explained. 

“Does Steve know you’ve seen me?”

“No. There is a reason you do not want to see Steve and I’m going to respect that. He won’t stop searching for you, though.”

“I know. Punk,” Sebastian muttered. “But, still…I’m dangerous. I should go.”

“I make it a habit to help out mentally unstable, wayward, former bad boys. It’s a weakness.”

She smiled sweetly at him as the food appeared with a waiter who’d not taken the order. He looked between them to volunteer whose food was whose. Jess looked at him and waited for him to make his choice. He noticed one was a hamburger, so he motioned that was his. 

He liked hamburgers. He didn’t know if he always had liked them as much as he did, but he sure did now. He ate one every chance he’d gotten on his way to Anchorage. 

“Thanks,” Jess said to the guy who set another kind of sandwich in front of her. 

They ate in silence. He was still slightly hungry when he finished and glanced at Jess’s plate, which was full of French Fries (which he also liked quite a bit, but not as much as hamburgers.). She noticed him looking and pushed the plate towards him. 

“Dig in.”

He did.

* * *

_I adapt to the unknown / Under wandering stars I’ve grown / By myself but not alone / I ask no one_

_-Metallica, “Wherever I May Roam”_

* * *

Jess lived in a townhouse (whatever that was) that was painted green and had a really violet door. She showed him around the small home, which was bright even at night due to the bold paint choices. He noticed photos of Steve and a dark haired man all over the place, as well as what were clearly family photos. 

“Where is your family?”

“Dad and Johnny are dead, so are my grandparents for all purposes, and my mom is currently residing over Hell somewhere.”

“So, they are all dead.”

“No. My mom is not dead. She’s the Queen of the Dead,” Jess said flippantly. “It’s a really long story. That Fury oddly didn’t commit to SHIELD reports, so no one knows it but the Avengers.”

Sebastian stared. Jess smiled.

“I’m not from around here, you know,” she grinned at him. 

Grinned at him.

No one grinned at him.

He was the Winter Solider. They feared him or leered at him. 

This was strange.

He kind of liked it. 

“Tell ya what, Seb, you get settled in here, then come downstairs and I’ll tell you the tale of Jessica Witton. Which totally got more interesting when everyone found out I’m from another Earth! Thanks Natasha!”

She smiled, then whirled out of the room in a cloud of blonde and purple hair. Sebastian sat down on the bed and stared around the bright green room. Someone else had clearly been living in the room before his arrival, but they’d recently moved out. A strange feeling surged through his chest at that thought, but he quickly pushed it down. He wasn’t sure how to settle, so he unloaded all his guns, knives, grenade, and various stashes of cash, then headed downstairs. 

He got as far at the top step when he had to turn around and go back for a few knives and gun. And clip of bullets. Just in case HYDRA came careening through the windows. Or something. 

* * *

_‘Cause underneath the scars of your broken dreams / An undone war still wages and stings_

_-Carbon Leaf, “Let Your Troubles Roll By”_

* * *

“This is a mess.”

“Yes, it is rather, isn’t it?”

“Ward is HYDRA. You and Loki were right. You suck.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to rebuild SHEILD. Like from the ground up,” Skye said, looking over at Jim who was watching Fitz and Simmons at the edge of the pool. Skye glanced over to the hotel room where Coulson was talking to Hill and noticed Tripp standing near the vending machine, staring at it as if it was going to tell him he won the lottery. 

“We are,” Jim agreed. 

“Think Loki is going to show back up?”

“Likely.”

Hill exited the room and left without looking at any of them. Coulson wandered out a few minutes later, looking forlorn. He headed to the vending machine. He stood in front of it, staring at the offerings blankly. Tripp moved aside, carrying a bag of chips and munching loudly. 

“I’ve never been homeless before,” Coulson remarked.

“It’s not fun,” Skye offered, having been homeless on more than one occasion over her short lifetime.  

“We are not homeless,” Jim insisted.

Coulson snorted. He glanced at Skye, who was wearing her serious think face. 

“We’ll get him,” he said quietly, finally choosing some chips from the vending machine.

“I know,” Skye offered. “I sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“None of us knew.”

“Loki did. Jim trusted Loki about it. The rest of us bought his act till it was too late.”

It’d been terrible. Ward had shown up beat up outside the secret base in Canada and convinced them all Garrett had killed Hand and then beat him up before Ward been able to escape. He fooled the machine used to make badges (how she wasn’t sure as that thing was freaky), then shown his true colors when it was just Skye and Eric on base while everyone else was off doing what they could to keep SHEILD going. 

Skye knew it was the fact Ward was infatuated with her that allowed her to make it out alive. 

“Loki is not normal,” Coulson proclaimed, sitting down at the table across from Skye. Jim scooted closer to her. “He will be joining us soon.”

“How do you know? I’d think he’d go to ground, you know, with all his information about being evil on the World Wide Web for the reading of anyone,” Skye reminded him.

Coulson smiled that little smile of his he got when he was proud of someone. “Oh, he’ll reinvent himself. Grudgingly. And he won’t go to Ms Witton, as her information is all out there as well. He’ll come here. We’re invisible.”

“How?”

Coulson smirked. “We’re all just normals. What information out there is on any of us? It’s not all that interesting compared to Loki, Stark, the fact we’ve got a Red Room assign working for us, and the fact there’s another parallel universe out there of our Earth and we’ve got one of the citizens living here.”

“What’s gonna happen to her?”

“Since she rejected SHEILD protection months ago, I’ve no idea. She was with Barton when it all went down, so he kept her off the grid until things settled, but she’s back at home now in Anchorage. So far, the good people of Anchorage are keeping her location on lock down.”

“Nice of them.”

“One of them will likely slip. Offer anyone the right amount of money, they will spill.” 

“Loki is likely to be very angry,” Jim said, a far away look on his face as he watched Simmons and Fitz, who’d been joined by Tripp. 

“He will want to take his anger out on someone, so he’ll come to us. Find us wherever we are,” Coulson assured. “He’s welcome here.”

“Really? Captain America won’t offer him an outlet? I mean, he’s an Avenger.”

“He’s a good man,” both Coulson and Jim said together. 

“And Loki’s not?”

“He tries,” Jim sadly said. “He tries very hard, but as the world knows, there are two sides to him and one side he’s been keeping in check for too long. It will need to come out now that the world’s against him. He’ll want to shelter Captain Rogers from that.”

“I can use that side right about now,” Coulson remarked. “Luckily, he knows it.”

“So, he’ll leave his honey and help us track down Ward and other HYDRA cells?” Skye doubtfully asked. “Seriously? They were sickening in London. They likely can’t stand to be away from one another more than few days.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Coulson said, leaning forward. “The ghost, the Winter Solider. He’s still MIA. And if I know Steve Rogers, he’s not going to stop, except if the world is in danger, until he finds his best friend.”

“Loki is a jealous creature,” Jim reminded them. “While he will try to support Captain Rogers in his endeavor, it will become too much. Loki does not do well dwelling in someone else’s shadow.”

“And that is when he’ll come to us,” Coulson finished, frowning at his now empty chip bag. “He will make an excellent agent of SHEILD.” 

Skye wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but Tripp threw Simmons into the pool, making Fitz defend her honor by tripping Tripp into the pool. She wasn’t sure Fitz did on purpose or accident, mostly due to the fact Tripp had time to grab him and bring Fitz down with him. 

“You’re missing the fun!” Tripp shouted, dunking Fitz back underwater for a second. 

“He’s right,” Coulson said, standing. 

Before Skye could do more than gape, Coulson picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and dropped her in the deep end. He followed her right in, suit and all. As revenge, Skye dunked her boss, evilly cackling the whole time. 

“Yo! Nicholls, get your butt in the pool!” Tripp shouted. “We are team bonding!”

“Oh, yes. Team Bonding,” Jim said, a sarcastic drawl to his voice Skye was sure he’d picked up from Loki. 

Skye let out a rather loud scream shortly after Jim dove in as grabbed her ankle and dragged her with him as he swam to the other end.

“No fair!” she panted when he let go. She was about to push him underwater when he faced her, smiling.

Smile Power was back.

Skye helplessly smiled back at him and failed to notice he grabbed her around the middle and towed her back towards the all out water war going on in the middle of the pool.  

* * *

_What will it take to show you that it’s not the life it seems? (I’m not okay) / I’ve told you time and time again_

_-My Chemical Romance, “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)”_

* * *

“Loki, you can’t leave. We are not done discussing this.”

“I have no life, Steven.”

“Yes, you do. We have a life together.”

“No. The United States government has taken everything of worth from me. They published our relationship, told the entire world where we live. On top of that, they wish to lock me up, no matter what you and Starks lawyers say, and one way or another, they will hunt me down and put me away. If not them, then HYDRA.”

He left out the fact he was overly jealous of the amount of time Steven gave to his missing best friend. Mostly because he was angry he was jealous. 

“Loki…”

“I’ve tried, Steven, but the time has come.”

“For what?”

“For me to leave.”

“To leave me. That’s what you’re doing, Loki. You’re leaving me when I need you. Bucky—”

“Samuel will aid you in finding your friend,” Loki snapped, going back to angrily packing his bags. “You do not need me to do that.” 

He did not look at Steven, who was standing in the doorway of their room. Loki did not need to as he knew the man was standing there with his stupidly well formed arms hanging uselessly at his sides while wearing a kicked puppy expression. And angry eyes. He was likely wearing very angry eyes. 

Steven often wore angry eyes since the events of DC, yet he was not outwardly angry. Just peeved, worried, and trying to make the best of a horrible situation. 

Loki, though, was apoplectic. He had been this wrathful before and knew if he did not find something constructive to do, he was going to travel down a dark path that would end with him doing something against those he loved and later he’d been racked with guilt and regret. (His therapist was HYDRA, so he didn’t have anyone to speak to on the matter either.) 

Loki knew, without a doubt, he had the ability to take down the US government. And at the moment he desired quite hard to do so, as they’d taken his beloved apartment, froze all his bank accounts (except his Swiss one, which he was sure they didn’t know about…yet), told the world he was dating Captain America (and brain washed him), thus setting the press on Steven. While he could likely have lived with the fact the government had taken his home (he had another one within the walls of Stark Tower) and he had enough money in his Swiss account to happily live for several lifetimes, he could not live with the treatment the press was giving Steven. They both were a prisoners in Stark Tower and someone like Steven shouldn’t be as hounded as he was for simply loving the wrong person.

Loki had to disappear. He was a hinderance to Steven’s everyday life and his quest to find Bucky Barnes. 

“I’m leaving to battle HYDRA on my own terms,” Loki offered, trying to control his movements to show less anger.

“What do you think I’m doing? Baking pies?” Steven snapped, his own frustrations bubbling to the surface. 

“No, I believe you’re fighting HYDRA, but you are too high profile and under too much scrutiny. I need to leave.”

Loki imagined Steve was pressing his lips together till they vanished and that cute little wrinkle between his eyes was deeper than the Grand Canyon. 

Loki still refused to look at his partner, though. He could not. 

“So, you’re going off on your own?”

“No. I am going to go find SHEILD.”

“SHEILD is dead,” Steven proclaimed.

Loki snorted. “SHIELD is as alive as you and me. What do you think happened to Coulson and his team? Did they just vanish off into the ether?”

Loki zipped his bag and looked at Steven. The moment Steven saw his eyes, the man broke. Loki saw it and felt wretched, but kept his expression hard and closed off. Steve, on the other hand, looked exactly as Loki had imagined: someone who’d just had his heart ripped out.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Steven pouted. “Everyone leaves.”

“I will return when HYDRA is gone, the hearings are over, and the government is no longer out for my head for things that were out of my control.”

“So, basically, when Natasha comes back,” Steve complained. 

“She’ll return long before I will. No one is calling for her blood, she is simply lost at sea,” Loki reminded Steven gently. “They want my blood spilled on the streets and to cleanse you of my filth.” 

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut. He looked like an angry puppy. He wore the big, sad blue eyes that would crush anyone’s soul, but the anger lurked behind them and made it easier for Loki to do what he had to do: leave. He had to kill things, had to smash things, had to do something constructive with his anger.

He could not do those things with Steven. Steven had to look for his friend. 

Loki could not look for Barnes.

“Find Barnes,” Loki said, stepping around Steven, not meeting his eyes. Sealing his heart off, Loki stepped into the elevator and instructed JARVIS to take him to the basement. 

“Enjoy your time away, Mr Laufey-Odinson,” JARVIS said as Loki stepped out.

“Watch after him and text my iPhone if anything…happens.”

“Updates will be daily, Mr Laufey-Odinson.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.” 

* * *

_States are crumbling / Walls are rising high again / It’s no place for the faint-hearted, but my heart is strong_

_-Muse, “Aftermath”_


End file.
